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'  Cadoudal  broke  away  and  pointing  his  pistol  at  Caniolle,  fired." 

(See  page  322) 


The  Eagle's  Talon 

By 

Georges  Ohnet 


Adapted  from  the  French  by 
Helen  Meyer 

With  16  Illustrations  by 
A.  de  Parys 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 
XTbe    'ftnfclierbocliet   pceea 

1913 


Copyright,  1913 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
Second  Printing 


Ube  ftnfcfterbocfier  ^ess,  tUw  Vocfc 


SRLl 
URUi 


^141?41 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII.- 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 


CONTENTS 

-A  Woman  and  a  Secret  . 

-The  Fortune  of  War 

-A  Snarer  of  Men  . 

-Bonaparte's  Rival  . 

-A  Summons  from  the  Consul 


— ^Affairs  of  State  and  of  the  Heart     io8 


-The  Disguised  Visitor     . 
-Fouche's  Opportunity 
-The  Conspirators  Gather 
-An  Artful  Inquisitor 
-A  Plot  and  its  Victims 
-Love  and  Peril 
-In  Readiness    . 
-Trapped    . 


PAGE 
I 

24 

42 

76 

94 


122 

132 
142 
161 
169 
183 
195 
218 


— ^The  Hiding-Place  of  the  Countess    241 


ttt 


IV 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XVI.- 

PAGE 

—The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge    .     261 

XVII.- 

—Promises  and  Threats  . 

.     274 

XVIII.- 

—The  Master  Gunner     . 

.     290 

XIX.- 

—A  Clew  and  a  Capture 

.     303 

XX.- 

—Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause 

•     311 

XXI.- 

—Love  Undying 

•     330 

XXII.- 

—Political  Justice 

•     343 

XXIIL- 

—The  Emperor's  Offer   . 

.     356 

XXIV.- 

—Long  Live  the  King!     . 

.     366 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

rAGB 

"Cadoudal  Broke  away  and  Pointing  his 
Pistol  at  Caniolle,  Fired."      Frontispiece 

"The  Door  Opened  and  the  Countess  de 

Montmoran  Entered."  ...       14 

"Fifty  Feet  from  the  Entrance  to  the 

Town,  Cadoudal  Halted."    ...      28 

"With  a  Growl  the  Chouan  Seized  her."      38 

"In  the  Gardens  the  Gay  World  Circu- 
lated, Met,  and  Exchanged  Greetings."      52 

"At  the  Review  Yesterday  Morning,  the 

Troops  Cried,  'Long  Live  the  Emperor!'"     iio 

"Braconneau,  Drowsy  from  his  Long  Chase 
OF  THE  Previous  Night,  Sat  at  a  Table 
in  the  Cafe  de  la  R6gence,  Playing 
Chess  with  '  Old  Dazincourt.'  "  .        .     132 

"As  if  before  his  Camp-fire  Cadoudal  Be- 
strode A  Chair."  ....     146 

"'There  Are  No  Secrets  from  me  in  this 
Head,*  she  Said  gaily,  Nestling  Close 
TO  his  Side." 164 


vi  Illustrations 


"  In  the  Consul's  own  Apartment,  in 
Dinner  Dress,  Attended  by  Hortense 
Beauharnais  and  Caroline  Murat, 
Josephine  Sat."     .....     182 

At  Frascati 202 

"  Josephine,  Always  Amiable  and  anxious 

TO  Please,  Sat  Silent,  Watching  him."    236 

"  'Coster  de  Saint-Victor,  and  you,  Joseph 
PicoT,'  Braconneau  Said  calmly,  '  I 
Arrest  you.'  " 266 

*"Are  you  Citizen  Sinclair?'  Asked  One 
OF  THE  Three  Men  who  had  Followed 
the  Maid  into  the  Room."  .         .         .     274 

"Bonaparte  Stood  with  his  Glass  to  his 

Eyes,  Frowning  and  Thinking  aloud."    292 

"The  Men  of  the  Prefecture  Led  their 

Prisoner  to  the  Dead."       .         .         .     342 


The    Eagle's    Talon 


The  Eagle's  Talon 


CHAPTER  I 

A  WOMAN  AND  A  SECRET 

HTHE  Chouan  chiefs  under  command  of 
'■  Georges  Cadoudal  had  met  at  dinner 
in  the  banquet  hall  of  the  Chateau  de  Kerldan 
to  reiterate  their  determination  to  oppose  the 
Government  of  the  Consul,  and  to  resist  the 
Constd's  attempts  to  pacify  Brittany.  Ca- 
doudal in  his  habitual  dress,  a  hunter's 
costume  of  green  velvet,  his  bare,  collarless 
neck  encircled  by  a  loose,  black  silk  cravat, 
his  legs  sheathed  to  the  knees  in  tan  leather,  sat 
at  the  right  hand  of  the  Coimtess  de  Kerl^an. 
The  Marquis  de  Montpelet,  Brigadier-General 
of  the  King's  army,  lounged  with  thumbs 
thrust  in  his  belt,  at  the  left  hand  of  the 
hostess. 

The  beautiful  and  notoriously  coquettish 
Countess  de  Montmoran  and  the  beautiful 


2  The  Eagle's  Talon 

and  amiable  Mme.  de  Tardy,  two  ladies 
known  to  the  outspoken  Chouans  as  "Georges* 
girls,"  sat  at  either  hand  of  the  Count  de 
K6rl^an. 

Arotind  the  table,  in  the  pale  light  of  the 
crystal  lustres,  the  watchful  eyes  of  Jean 
Tiffauges,  Rev.  Father  Clarec,  Baron  de 
Quatrelouis,  and  the  Chevalier  de  Kerallac 
looked  out  of  faces  dark  with  stem  resolve. 

The  dinner  had  been  a  babel  of  discussion, 
and  the  old  wines,  served  by  the  liveried 
lackeys  of  the  household  de  K^rlean,  had  not 
decreased  the  general  animation. 

"Have  you  heard,"  said  the  Abb6,  "Bona- 
parte has  given  Father  Bemier  a  bishopric!" 

"Eh,  well!  Bemier  worked  for  it;  such  serv- 
ices as  he  rendered  when  they  signed  the 
peace  treaty  of  Chitillon  were  worth  some 
rettuTi!"  sneered  Quatrelouis. 

"Bemier  is  a  traitor!"  cried  de  Barbazan. 
"He  has  betrayed  our  cause.  Let  him  not 
show  his  face  in  these  regions.  I  know  twenty 
men  who  would  like  nothing  better  than  to 
kill  him." 

"He  knows  that  as  well  as  you  know  it," 
said  Cadoudal. 

"I  loved  Father  Bemier,"  sighed  the  Coun- 
tess de  Montmoran.     "He  is  so  handsome. 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  3 

His  gestures  are  so  gracefiil.  In  the  ptjjpit 
he  is  a  dream!  .  .  .  He  is  a  true  prelate; 
magnetic  and  a  most  convincing  speaker!" 

"He  would  have  done  better  if  he  had  kept 
his  mouth  shut,"  said  Tiffauges.  "His  talk 
lulled  our  people  to  sleep  to  be  awakened  by 
H6douville's  cannon.  .  .  .  And  now,  after 
all  his  plausible  villainy,  that  damned  Bona- 
parte has  made  him  a  bishop!  If  he  lives 
long  enough,  he  will  make  him  a  cardinal 
and  seat  him  on  the  papal  throne.  The 
'Master  of  France'  knows  how  to  reward  his 
servants;  there  is  no  denying  that!" 

"That  is  why  he  is  not  like  our  kings," 
piped  the  soft  voice  of  the  gentle  Mme.  de 
Tardy. 

Falling  from  her  artless  lips  the  bold  words 
caused  deep  emotion.  Cadoudal  said  in  a 
harsh  voice: 

"We  serve  our  King  because  we  are 'loyal 
lovers  of  the  monarchy.  Shame  to  us  if  we 
look  for  a  reward  for  our  devotion!" 

'' Pardine!''  said  Tiffauges,  "it  would  do  us 
little  good  to  do  anything  of  that  sort!  It  is 
easy  to  talk  of  '  royalty. '  How  many  Royalists 
are  there?  Normandy  is  as  submissive  as  a 
sheep;  the  men  who  pillaged  Chartres  are 
dead.    As  far  as  I  have  seen,  we  are  the  only 


4  The  Eagle's  Talon 

men  of  Morbihan  on  foot.  And  whom  are 
we  fighting  .  .  .  and  how  are  we  fighting? 
Our  men  would  throw  down  their  guns  .  .  . 
they  would  starve  to  death;  we  could  not  feed 
them  were  it  not  for  the  English,  who  toss  us 
a  few  carbines  .  .  .  money,  and  powder, 
from  time  to  time." 

Cadoudal  made  an  attempt  to  speak; 
Tiffauges  cut  short  his  words: 

' '  Georges,  you  can  afford  to  talk !  You  are  a 
general,  you  wear  the  jewel  of  the  grand  cordon 
of  Saint-Louis,  and  the  King  calls  you  'friend, ' 
or,  if  he  is  in  good  humour  '  Cousin. '  All  that 
is  very  agreeable  for  you,  but  it  does  not 
embellish  the  appearance  of  our  legs." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  'Citizen  Tiffauges,*  " 
laughed  Mme.  de  Montmoran. 

"Ah,  Cotintess,"  murmured  Tiffauges,  "you 
are  the  exception;  we  all  know  your  perfec- 
tions." He  turned  to  Cadoudal.  "We  can- 
not deny  facts;  we  are  at  bay,  and  the  men 
who  give  us  an  appearance  of  authority  are 
as  tired  of  it  as  we  are." 

"Such  talk  is  blasphemous ! "  said  Cadoudal. 
"Not  for  an  instant  has  oiu*  faith  wavered; 
not  even  in  a  black  dream  could  the  least,  the 
weakest  of  us,  be  so  base  as  to  forsake  the 
sacred  cause." 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  5 

"The  'sacred  cause*  seems  to  have  for- 
saken us, "  mocked  BecdeH^vre.  *  *  Hope  against 
hope  is  an  euphonious  legend,  but  when  a  thing 
is  impossible,  it  is  impossible.  We  are  as 
ready  to  die  for  the  Lilies  as  for  the  ladies; 
but  apparently  to  die  is  all  the  service  we  can 
render  them." 

"I  would  rather  die  than  lounge  in  idleness 
like  Suzannet  and  d'Autichamp ! "  shouted  de 
Barbazan.  "  Let  me  drop  in  my  tracks,  let  me 
be  the  last  Chouan  to  draw  a  bead  upon  the 
Blues!" 

Cadoudal  sprang  to  his  feet  and  faced  de 
Barbazan  with  arms  outstretched. 

"You  shall  not  be  the  last  one;  there  will 
be  two  of  us,"  he  cried,  hoarse  from  emotion. 
"We  will  die  together,  and  side  by  side; 
the  last  volley  fired  by  the  Blues  shall  be  for 
you  and  me!  By  my  soul,  Barbazan,  I  love 
you!  Let  them  set  the  cross  between  our 
graves,  and  write  on  it,  The  last  of  the  Chouan- 
nerie." 

The  faces  of  the  men  darkened.  De  Keral- 
lac  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  Coimtess  de 
Montmoran  asked  briskly: 

"How  many  emigrants  returned  this  year?" 

' '  Sixty  thousand . ' ' 

"They  will  form  concrete  for  the  consolida- 


6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

tion  of  the  new  governmental  organisation. 
Our  people  have  carved  the  wood  of  the  black 
cherry  trees  of  the  German  forest,  and  given 
dancing  and  fencing  lessons  to  the  yoimg 
Germans  long  enough.  They  are  tired  of 
poverty!" 

"They  are  not  as  tired  as  our  old  nobles 
will  make  the  ustirpers  after  the  restoration. 
That  situation  will  be  delicate,  to  say  the 
least! "  murmiured  Mme.  de  Tardy  with  a  fond 
glance  at  the  glowing  face  of  Cadoudal. 

"Law  is  law!"  declared  de  K6rl^an.  "The 
'usurpers,'  as  you  call  them,  are  backed  by 
all  the  magistrates  and  gendarmes  of  the 
Government  of  France." 

"And,"  added  Quatrelouis,  "the  man  who 
holds  the  combination  together  is  strong 
enough  to  enforce  respect  for  all  the  acts  of 
the  Revolution." 

"If  we  could  make  him  disappear — ^what 
then?"  asked  Tiffauges. 

Kerldan  laughed. 

"//—"he  began. 

Cadoudal  interrupted  him. 

"We  have  no  time  for  hypotheses.  We 
must  be  at  Pont  Scorff  at  daybreak,  to  meet 
the  English  ship  and  to  get  her  cargo.  Ladies, 
you  must  not  be  frightened;   you  will  hear 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  7 

heavy  firing  from  Lorient  and  Port-Louis. 
We  shall  seize  K^rentrec,  and  under  cover  of 
that  diversion,  we  shall  establish  communi- 
cation with  the  ship.  We  can  hold  the 
mouth  of  the  river  long  enough  to  receive  the 
cargo." 

"How  many  men  are  you  taking?"  asked 
Quatrelouis. 

"Only  a  handful;  but  three  thousand  are  on 
the  way.  The  whole  country  is  with  us;  I 
could  call  the  peasants;  they  would  rise  to 
a  man  should  we  need  them."  As  he  spoke,  a 
vision  clouded  his  mind.  Black  night,  and  a 
weak  hand  of  Chouans  struggling  in  the  icy  fog 
of  early  morning,  hemmed  in  by  battalions  of  the 
Blues.  His  chin  fell  upon  his  breast  and  he 
sat  silent,  lost  in  thought.  On  either  side  of 
de  K6rl^an  a  girlish  woman  leaned  forward 
and  gazed  into  his  dark  face  with  eyes  chal- 
lenging his  notice. 

"Awake,  Lord  Georges!"  said  the  sweet 
voice  of  Mme.  de  Tardy.  ' '  Let  us  drink  to  the 
success  of  the  expedition!" 

All  raised  their  glasses  and  the  Countess 
de  Montmoran  cried:  "To  the  glory  of  our 
General,  and  to  the  restoration  of  the  throne." 

Cadoudal  bowed  low  to  the  Countess,  and 
kissed  the  cheek  of  Mme.  de  Tardy. 


8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  thank  you.  To-morrow  night  I  will 
bring  you  news." 

The  company  arose  from  the  table,  and 
host  and  hostess,  followed  by  the  majority  of 
their  guests,  passed  through  the  corridor,  to 
the  salon.  Cadoudal,  Tiffauges,  and  de  Bar- 
bazan  entered  a  room  used  by  the  chief  of  the 
Chouans  as  an  office.  A  short,  massive 
cannon  stood  in  a  comer  behind  piled  up 
double-barrelled  pistols  and  a  disordered  heap 
of  sabres  in  shining  black-leather  scabbards. 
On  a  long  table  a  map  of  the  country  lay 
where  Cadoudal  and  his  aids  had  studied 
it. 

Cadoudal  sank  into  an  armchair  and  turned 
with  an  impatient  movement  to  Tiffauges: 

^'Eh  Bienr'  he  said.  "We  are  alone,  we 
can  speak  freely.     Have  you  any  news?" 

"You  have  taken  long  enough  to  ask  it!" 
growled  Tiffauges. 

' '  I  could  not  ask  it  at  dinner,  could  I  ?  Dis- 
turb the  company  .  .  .  excite  the  ladies " 

"No!"  Tiffauges  exclaimed  with  a  savage 
laugh.  "It  would  have  been  better  to  wait 
imtil  the  ladies  signalled  to  the  Blues  to  come 
in  and  shoot  us  down!" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

' '  I  mean  that  you  have  been  betrayed.    You 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  9 

will  be  trapped  at  Hennebont,  as  Charette 
was  trapped  at  la  Chaboterie." 

"  Betrayed  ?  Who  has  betrayed  me  ? 
I  will  flay  him  alive.  I  swear  it  by  Saint 
Anne." 

"And  what  if  it  is  a  woman?" 

Cadoudal  had  not  stirred.  Tiffauges  on 
foot,  close  to  him,  faced  him,  his  strong  face 
grim. 

Making  a  violent  effort  the  chief  mastered 
his  fury;  his  face  turned  from  purplish  red  to 
livid  grey.  Tiffauges  drew  a  chair  close  to 
Cadoudal  and  de  Barbazan  seated  himself 
beside  Tiffauges.  Tiffauges  reflected,  then 
he  said  gently,  evidently  anxious  to  efface  the 
effect  of  his  harshness: 

"I  suspected  the  Countess  de  Montmoran 
long  ago." 

''The  Countess?'' 

"Yes,  General,  your  dear  friend.  I  took 
note  of  the  fact  that  our  plans  failed  whenever 
they  were  known  to  her.  I  knew  that  one  of 
our  company  was  a  spy,  because  whenever  we 
planned  in  conclave,  our  enterprise  fell  flat, 
and  we  grazed  death.  I  saw  that  some  one 
reported  our  plans  to  the  Blues.  When  the 
same  result  had  followed  three  of  our  councils, 
I  recognised  the  fact  that  none  but  the  Coim- 


10  The  Eagle's  Talon 

tess  could  have  betrayed  us.  I  confided  my 
suspicions  to  Barbazan." 

"You  did,"  said  de  Barbazan,  "but  you 
told  me  no  news.  I  had  suspected  it.  I  had 
hesitated  to  speak  of  my  suspicions,  because 
the  case  was  delicate;  I  shrank  from  voicing 
my  fears." 

"After  I  threshed  the  matter  out  with 
Barbazan,"  said  Tiffauges,  "we  made  a  plan 
when  we  knew  that  she  was  listening.  We 
planned  to  march  in  one  direction;  and  we 
marched  in  the  opposite  direction.  We  set 
out  for  a  given  point;  she  fell  into  our  trap 
and  notified  the  Blues  that  we  were  to  be 
at  a  given  point  at  a  stated  time." 

Livid,  the  veins  in  his  forehead  black  and 
swollen,  Cadoudal  listened. 

"Ostensibly,"  pursued  Tiffauges,  "we  set 
out  for  Kenlis  to  levy  tribute.  The  people 
of  Kenlis  had  harboured  a  miscreant  priest,  a 
man  who  had  sworn  to  support  the  Consular 
Government ;  they  had  paid  their  taxes  to  the 
Government,  and  sent  their  conscripts  to 
Vannes.  We  set  out  for  Kenlis,  and  when  on 
the  march  changed  our  orders  and  marched 
to  Guirec.  To  make  sure  of  facts,  and  to  do 
full  justice  to  the  suspected  woman,  I  sent  a 
spy  to  Kenlis." 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  ii 

"And  that,"  said  Cadoudal,  "was  why  you 
sent  me  word  to  go  direct  to  Guirec!" 

"It  was.  Had  you  been  in  Kenlis  an  hour 
longer,  they  would  have  caught  you.  As 
soon  as  she  reported  our  plans,  the  Blues 
marched  to  Kenlis  with  hussars  and  cannon. 
Kenlis  was  a  hornet's  nest;  the  Blues  were 
hidden  in  the  bams,  in  the  alleys,  and  in  the 
gardens  behind  the  houses.  It  was  a  well  set 
trap;  they  were  ready  for  you!" 

Cadoudal  was  dumb.  His  head  sunk  on 
his  breast,  he  sat  staring  at  the  floor.  Tif- 
fauges  said: 

"General,  this  is  hard  work  for  us,  but  it  is 
duty.     We  love  you,  we  must  defend  you." 

In  the  salon  some  one  was  singing,  and  the 
reiterated  refrain  of  the  ancient  ballad  fell 
with  mocking  insistence  upon  the  ears  of  the 
three  men. 

Barbazan  said,  "Georges,  we  are  four  com- 
rades. We  honour  you  above  the  princes. 
Our  love  is  not  the  fancy  of  an  idle  hour." 

The  metallic  ring  of  a  clock's  beU  broke  the 
silence.     Cadoudal  started. 

"You  are  sure  .  .  .  there  can  be  no 
doubt?" 

"We  are  sure  of  it,"  Tiffauges  answered. 
"We  have  proved  her  a  traitor  three  times. 


12  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  Countess  is  a  spy,  she  tells  our  secrets  to 
the  Blues." 

"What  is  her  object?" 

"  Damned  women!  who  knows  what  motives 
actuate  them,  who  can  fathom  their  deviltry? 
Perhaps  she  wants  money." 

"Money?  she  has  money!  She  is  jealous,'* 
said  de  Barbazan.  "Mme.  de  Tardy  is  a 
pretty  woman,  and  you,  General,  have  been 
too  open  in  your  assiduities." 

"Georges,"  exclaimed  Tiffauges,  "I  say  as 
I  have  said  before,  '  You  cannot  mix  war  with 
love.''  The  time  has  come  to  take  a  stand 
against  personal  weakness.  If  you  are  deter- 
mined to  dance  to  the  piping  of  the  petticoats, 
be  kind  enough  to  give  us  leave  of  absence, 
with  permission  to  go  beyond  the  seas.  To 
continue  this  game  means  capture.  I  have  no 
envy  for  either  a  useless  or  an  inglorious 
death." 

"Enough!"  said  Cadoudal.  "From  this 
night  women  shall  not  set  foot  on  military 
ground.  Give  your  orders  both  of  you;  let 
the  sentries  imderstand  that  no  woman  is  to 
pass." 

De  Barbazan  made  a  movement  as  if  to 
embrace  the  chief ;  Tiff auges,  his  eyes  gleaming, 
asked : 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  13 

"Shall  we  go  to  K6rentrec?" 

"Yes,  armed  for  battle!  Send  out  the 
couriers.  We  must  be  there  in  all  our 
strength!" 

"And,"  murmured  Tiffauges,  "what  shall 
you  do  to  her?'' 

"If  she  is  guilty,  she  shall  die!" 

"Come,  come,  Georges,"  urged  de  Barba- 
zan ;  "  do  not  exaggerate  her  importance.  She 
is  nothing  but  a  woman;  we  are  men.  The 
strong  man  is  merciful.  Women,  weak  beings, 
inconsequent,  delicious  puppets!  They  have 
no  moral  consciousness;  it  is  not  just  to  regard 
them  as  responsible.  The  worst  feature  of 
the  Jacobins  is  their  inability  to  recognise  the 
difference  between  the  sexes.  They  killed  de 
Lamballe,  a  lovely  being,  whose  beauty  should 
have  moved  them  to  pity.  They  cut  the 
neck  of  Du  Barry,  their  best  ally,  the  one  to 
whom  they  owed  their  Revolution.  .  .  .  But 
you  are  not  a  Jacobin,  you  are  a  gentleman. 
She  cannot  harm  you,  you  have  escaped  her. 
Show  the  nobility  of  your  race;  have  mercy  on 
her!" 

"  To  the  devil  with  her ! "  groaned  Cadoudal. 
"  If  she  is  a  spy,  she  shall  meet  the  fate  of  the 
spy!" 

The   door   opened   and   the   Countess   de 


14  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Montmoran  entered.  She  cast  a  swift  glance 
at  the  map  and  said,  smiling: 

"I  must  tear  you  from  your  conference, 
General ;  Mme.  de  K^rldan  wishes  you  to  come 
into  the  salon  at  once." 

"We  are  about  to  march,"  said  Cadoudal. 

"ToHennebont?" 

"ToHennebont." 

"With  many  men?" 

"With  a  handful." 

She  clung  to  him  and  whispered:  "I  will 
meet  you  there  in  the  morning." 

He  answered,  "I  shall  be  there,  if  I  live  to 
get  there." 

"You  are  not  anticipating  trouble?"  she 
asked. 

' '  No, ' '  he  answered.     '  *  Ma  foi,  no ! " 

Laying  her  head  upon  his  breast,  she  said 
fondly: 

"Bid  me  adieu  here,  Georges!  I  shall  not 
dare  to  embrace  you  in  the  salon,  before  all 
the  people." 

He  received  her  caresses  coldly,  and  she 
murmured  reproachfully,  "You  are  not  think- 
ing of  me  to-night!" 

"I  am  thinking,"  he  answered,  "of  the  road 
to  Lorient,  of  the  darkness  .  .  .  ambush  .  .  . 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow — death!" 


r'aJTi-'.-  i.v^:fl«^is&i»|i 


"  The  door  opened  and  the  Countess  de  Montmoran  entered." 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  15 

"Go!"  she  cried  pettishly.  "You  do  not 
desire  my  love." 

''Adieu,  Countess." 

"  1  wiH  not  say  adieu!    Au  revoir." 

He  returned  her  coquettish  glance  with  a 
long,  searching  stare  and  answered: 

"  I  accept  the  augury.  Au  revoir,  Countess. 
We  shall  meet  again.'' 

He  buckled  his  sword  belt,  and,  followed  by 
de  Barbazan  and  by  Tiffauges,  went  into  the 
salon.  When  the  door  of  the  salon  closed, 
the  Countess  ran  down  the  corridor,  descended 
a  flight  of  steps  hidden  by  a  tapestry-covered 
panel,  and  reached  an  abandoned  cellar.  By 
the  dim  light  filtered  through  the  smoked 
glass  of  a  lantern  fixed  to  the  mouldy  wall, 
she  saw  a  man  lying  on  the  ground, 
asleep. 

Aroused  by  her  approach,  he  sprang  to  his 
feet,  grasping  his  staff,  the  redoubtable  iron- 
boimd,  leather-handled  pen-has  of  the  Breton. 
At  sight  of  his  visitor,  his  face  cleared. 

"Pardon,  Countess,"  he  mtirmtired.  "I 
have  been  running  over  the  roads  and  the 
fields,  two  days  and  two  nights;  my  fatigue 
was  greater  than  my  good  will." 

"Your  offence  is  pardonable,  Lerebourg," 
she    answered.     "You    needed    sleep.     You 


i6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

must  set  out  again,  and  at  once.    Are  you 

ready?" 

"I  am  always  ready." 

"Go  to  the  man  to  whom  I  sent  you  last 
night.  Tell  him  to  obey  the  orders  already 
given.  Say  that  the  information  was  exact 
and  that  nothing  is  changed.  When  you  have 
delivered  your  message,  go  to  Hennebont  and 
find  a  secure  place  where  I  can  be  comfortable 
until  the  business  is  terminated.  I  shall  arrive 
in  a  post-chaise  toward  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Meet  me  where  the  highway  enters 
the  town.  I  shall  dismiss  my  chaise  and  go 
in  on  foot.     Do  not  keep  me  waiting." 

* '  Bien,  Madame, ' '  answered  Lerebourg.  '  *  I 
shall  be  there." 

The  Countess  disappeared  in  the  little 
stairway.  The  spy,  Lereboiu'g,  crossed  the 
cellar,  and  slipped  through  a  ventilator  out 
into  the  night.  The  Countess  returned  to 
the  corridor,  and  entered  the  salon,  where 
nothing  had  been  left  to  remind  the  gay  com- 
pany of  Cadoudal's  night  march  and  its 
possibilities,  save  the  wistful  light  in  the  soft 
eyes  of  de  Tardy,  and  the  tears  upon  her 
cheeks. 

Cadoudal  had  taken  leave  and  gone  to 
muster  his  men.     De  Barbazan  was  with  him, 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  17 

giving  low-voiced  orders  in  the  darkness,  and 
from  their  hiding-places  in  the  fields  around 
the  chateau,  dark  shapes  were  issuing  to  form 
the  column.  When  still  close  to  the  chateau, 
whose  walls  loomed  like  soHd  rock,  the  spy 
drew  back.  Vague  sounds  on  every  side  told 
him  that  the  night  swarmed  with  men.  Re- 
treating to  the  opening  in  the  wall,  he  slipped 
back  into  the  cellar,  and  lying  with  ear  to  the 
groimd,  listened. 

After  a  time  the  low,  imperative  call  of  the 
Chouan  sergeants:  "Forward — March!''  and 
the  swinging  tread  of  the  moving  column,  told 
him  that  Cadoudal  was  on  the  road.  Cau- 
tiously, in  silence,  he  slipped  out  of  the  cellar, 
and  halting  incessantly  to  listen,  passed 
through  the  field  to  the  highway,  and  set  out 
for  Languidic.  After  an  hour's  q uick  march  he 
reached  a  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village, 
and  turning  into  a  lane,  passed  through  the 
barnyard  of  a  farm  and  knocked  on  the  closed 
blind  of  a  window  on  the  ground  floor.  After 
deep  silence  he  knocked  again,  and  a  voice 
close  to  the  window  called  from  behind  the 
blind. 

"Who  is  it?" 

Lerebourg  answered  by  a  low  cry  like  the 
note  of  a  nested  bird. 


i8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"  Who  is  it?"  insisted  the  voice. 

' '  Biville-Londres. ' ' 

A  man  in  a  loose,  brown  great-coat  opened 
the  door,  permitted  Lerebourg  to  enter,  closed 
and  barred  the  door,  and  led  the  way  into  a 
low-ceiled,  long  room  fiimished  with  a  bench 
and  a  table.  The  feeble  light  of  a  candle, 
fixed  to  the  table  by  its  own  wax,  fell  on  a 
broad-brimmed,  stiff-crowned  hat,  and  on  two 
loaded  pistols. 

Lerebourg  seated  himself  on  the  bench  and 
turned  to  his  companion  with  a  triumphant 
grin. 

"Well,  Braconneau,"  he  said,  "this  time  we 
are  sure  of  him.  He  is  on  the  march;  he  will 
run  into  the  trap  at  daybreak.  We  must  be 
at  Hennebont  at  three  o'clock.  Now  then, 
let  me  sleep!" 

The  man  called  Braconneau,  known  as 
"the  right  hand  of  the  Minister  of  Police," 
opened  a  door,  disappeared  in  an  inner  room, 
and  came  out  with  his  arms  full  of  empty 
feed  bags.  He  cast  the  bags  in  two  heaps  on 
the  floor. 

"Lie  down,"  he  said. 

The  two  men  stretched  out  upon  the  floor 
with  heads  pillowed  upon  the  sacks.  Bra- 
conneau spoke: 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  19 

"Three  times  we  have  set  out  to  take  Ca- 
doudal !  Three  times  he  has  escaped  us.  This 
time  will  be  like  the  others!" 

"Hitherto  he  has  eluded  us,"  responded 
Lerebourg,  "because  the  whole  country  has 
worked  for  him.  His  luck,  the  vigilance  of 
his  spies,  and  the  zeal  of  his  partisans,  have 
protected  him.  The  whole  country  has  con- 
nived with  him.  There  is  not  a  bush  by  the 
highway,  not  a  stone  in  the  fields  in  this  devil 
of  a  Brittany,  that  has  not  played  into  his 
hands.  But  the  game  is  up!  Montmoran 
has  given  him  rendezvous  at  Hennebont  at 
daybreak.  No  fear  that  he  will  not  be  there! 
We  are  spies,  Braconneau;  but  we  are  not 
cowards;  I  smile  when  I  think  of  the  fate 
awaiting  us  if  we  are  caught!" 

"How  the  peasants  hate  us!"  mused  Bra- 
conneau. 

"Yes,  they  would  make  lint  of  us.  But- 
danger  is  the  redeeming  feature  of  a  life  like 
ours;  stripped  of  its  danger,  it  would  be  a 
treadmill." 

They  lay  side  by  side  in  the  smoky  darkness, 
and  one  said  to  the  other: 

"This  is  not  the  first  time  that  you  and  I, 
lying  in  silence  and  amidst  shadows,  have  tried 
to  sleep." 


20  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"You  are  thinking  of  La  Piti6,  the  Paris 
hospital,  where  we  lay  in  our  white  beds  like 
two  sick  children.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember  the 
lion  of  the  Atlas?  We  could  hear  him  roaring 
in  the  great  garden  tmder  the  hill,  and  from 
our  beds  we  could  see  the  Judas  tree,  and  the 
cedar  brought  from  Lebanon  by  Jussieu,  the 
nuns  in  their  white-winged  bonnets  ...  do 
you  remember?" 

"Let  me  forget!" 

The  other  said  after  a  long  silence:  "My 
duty  makes  my  life  natural.  I  owe  it  to 
Fouch6  to  seize  Cadoudal;  I  will  do  it;  I  will 
deliver  him  bound  hand  and  foot.  I  am 
working  for  professional  duty.  You  have  a 
personal  account  to  settle  with  the  Royalists. 
The  bullet  Saint-Regeant  lodged  within  my 
breast  was  as  nothing  to  the  wrong  done  to 
you." 

"Vile  wretch!"  groaned  Lerebourg.  "He 
laid  my  honour  in  the  dust.  He  killed  my 
joy!  Georges  Cadoudal  was  party  to  his 
work ;  he  shall  answer  for  it ;  I  have  sworn  it  by 
the  memory  of  my  dead.  I  loved  her!  .  .  . 
If  she  had  come  back  to  me,  no  matter  how, 
I  would  have  pardoned  her.  But  he  was 
young,  handsome,  and  a  courtier;  and  I  was 
old,  and  a  man  far  below  the  rank  of  the 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  21 

aristocrat.  Saint-Regeant  stole  the  breath  of 
her  innocent  soul;  he  left  nothing  for  her  old 
husband." 

"Talk  of  something  else!"  said  Braconneau. 
"I  was  a  fool  to  recall  the  past.  We  are 
playing  a  desperate  game,  Lerebourg;  our 
lives  are  the  stakes.  Danger  lends  august 
importance  to  our  calling.  Before  the  day  is 
over  we  may  be  in  Eternity.  .  .  .  Be  strong!" 

Lereboiu'g  answered  bitterly. 

"Do  not  attempt  to  disguise  my  work  with 
fancies.  I  see  the  ignominy  of  my  acts.  / 
am  a  spy.'* 

In  the  dim  light  the  room  filled  with  shadows. 
Lerebourg  heaved  a  sigh. 

"In  my  youth  I  cherished  ideals;  little  by 
little  I  awoke  to  the  meaning  of  life.  Then, 
when  I  was  old,  I  dreamed  again,  and  my 
dream  brought  me  to  a  pass  where  my  soul 
hears  nothing  but  the  cry  of  desolation." 

Braconneau  feigned  to  sleep. 

Lerebourg  spoke  again.  "  Within  six  hours 
you  will  satisfy  Fouch6's  ambition.  You  will 
hold  Cadoudal.  He  will  arrive  with  a  few  of 
his  men;  the  btdk  of  his  troops  will  be  at 
Lorient." 

Silence.  The  two  men  watched  the 
shadows. 


22  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Braconneau  asked: 

"  Did  that  woman  make  any  new  demands?" 

Lerebourg  sneered.  "She  demanded  one 
hundred  thousand  livres,  to  be  paid  into  her 
hand  one  hour  after  Cadoudal  enters  the 
dungeon  of  Vannes." 

"One  hundred  thousand  livres!  By  my 
soul,  she  is  modest!  We  have  already  paid 
her  three  hundred  thousand  livres.  What 
does  she  do  with  her  money?" 

Lerebourg  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Did  she  ever  love  Cadoudal?" 

"Never!  She  courted  him  because  he 
stands  close  to  the  princes." 

"What  is  her  object  now?" 

"Now  her  jealousy  and  cupidity  are  at 
work.  Mme.  de  Tardy  is  very  pretty  and 
very  loving.     The  Countess  hates  her." 

"She  hates  him.  .  .  .  Yet  she  is  jealous?" 

"She  is  jealous  of  the  power  of  her  rival." 

"Very  natural  and  very  feminine!  .  .  . 
And  if  Cadoudal  is  informed  of  her  treachery?" 

Lerebourg  laughed.  "If  we  catch  him,  we 
shall  draw  his  claws.     If  he  escapes  us " 

"Poor  devil!"  mused  Braconneau. 

"Eh,  bieni  Why  'poor  devil'?  She  has 
worked  for  it;  she  has  not  stolen  it." 

Shut  in  behind  the  solid  shutters  of  the 


A  Woman  and  a  Secret  23 

closed  windows,  exhausted  by  their  run  over 
the  stony  roads,  the  tired  spies  slept.  Bra- 
conneau  was  the  first  to  awake.  The  candle 
had  burned  to  a  pool  of  wax. 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"Midnight." 

"Let  us  go.  We  must  be  at  Hennebont  to 
meet  the  Coimtess." 

Braconneau  scraped  the  wax  from  the  table, 
set  his  foot  upon  the  wick,  and,  followed  by 
Lerebourg,  went  out  into  the  night.  Though 
the  road  was  deserted,  Braconneau  led  his 
companion  away  from  the  highway  and  across 
the  fields.  Picking  their  way  through  the 
stubble,  they  covered  the  distance  with  the 
long,  swinging  pace  of  men  of  the  road,  visited 
the  headquarters  of  the  Blues  and  delivered 
their  message,  and  met  the  Coimtess  as  her 
coachman  drew  rein  at  the  entrance  to 
Hennebont. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FORTUNE  OF  WAR 

TN  the  cold  twilight  of  the  hotir  before  the 
'  dawn,  three  men,  on  foot  in  the  bell 
tower  of  the  church  ot  Hennebont,  gazed 
anxiously  across  the  dark  cotintry,  three 
lookouts  posted  by  the  republicans,  warned 
of  Cadoudal's  movements  by  the  Countess 
de  Montmoran.  One  of  the  three,  Braconneau, 
the  Government  detective,  in  his  great  coat, 
his  head  lost  in  the  broad-brimmed  hat  of  a 
drover,  watched  the  evolutions  of  a  far-off 
shadow,  the  English  frigate,  turning  to  right 
and  to  left,  to  evade  the  cannon  of  Port 
Loms.  The  other  two  men  were  Lerebourg, 
in  the  blouse  of  a  horse-trader,  and  a  grenadier 
of  the  Blues  in  uniform.  Lerebourg  and  the 
officer  stood  with  backs  turned  to  Braconneau, 
facing  the  land,  looking  toward  Vannes  and 
scanning  the  horizon. 

Lerebourg  said  to  the  officer: 

"There  is  a  steep  hill  behind  that  grove; 
the  place  is  hidden  from  this  part  of  the 

24 


The  Fortune  of  War  25 

country.  Cadoudal  will  halt  there  to  give 
orders.     They  be  must  there  now." 

The  officer  answered: 

"They  have  had  time  to  get  there.  We 
cannot  see  an)rthing  imtil  the  column  de- 
bouches at  Yverneau." 

Braconneau  said:  "It  will  take  him  an 
hour  to  get  here  and  to  force  our  outposts. 
You  will  have  plenty  of  time  to  signal  to  the 
commandant  to  call  the  reserves." 

The  young  captain  shook  his  head  doubt- 
fully. 

" It  would  go  hard  with  him  if  I  should  not! 
They  could  catch  him  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  By 
my  faith!  Braconneau,  I  think  that  this  is 
another  wild-goose  chase.  Where  is  your 
man?" 

"He  marched  at  eleven  o'clock,"  said 
Lerebourg.     *  *  I  was  there.     I  saw  them  start. ' ' 

The  officer  answered  with  impatience: 
"You  arrived  at  our  headquarters  at  two 
o'clock.  You  told  us  that  he  would  be  here 
by  the  first  streak  of  the  dawn.  The  day  is 
breaking.  Mark  my  words,  he  has  escaped 
again!" 

"Impossible!  Coster  de  Saint- Victor  and 
de  Barbazan  are  imder  orders  to  attack 
Lorient  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  garrison 


26  The  Eagle's  Talon 

while  Cadoudal  gets  the  cargo  from  that 
frigate."  (He  pointed  to  the  mouth  of  the 
river.)  "  As  I  have  told  you,  she  brings  muni- 
tions from  the  damned  English.  Cadoudal 
must  get  his  guns;  he  cannot  arm  his  troops 
until  he  gets  them.  It  will  be  quick  work. 
Saint-Victor's  part  in  it  is  insignificant.  Ca- 
doudal will  face  all  our  strength." 

From  the  distance,  across  the  land,  came 
the  sound  of  guns. 

"Hark!"  said  Braconneau.  "That  is  at 
Pont-Scorff.     Now  you  will  see  Cadoudal." 

As  if  the  frigate  had  waited  to  get  her  bear- 
ings from  the  guns  of  Lorient,  she  raised  sail 
and  made  for  the  mouth  of  the  Blavet.  At 
the  same  instant  one  shot  was  fired,  then  an- 
other, and  another.  The  smoke  rose  slowly 
from  the  dew-drenched  broom,  and  on  the  run, 
retreating,  the  broken  ranks  of  the  grenadiers 
of  the  Republic  crossed  the  plain,  making  for 
their  outposts  and  for  the  city.  A  clamour 
arose  from  the  moorland  and  from  the  woods, 
'^Long  live  the  King!''  and  rising  from  the 
ground,  dark  bands  of  peasants,  men  and 
women,  armed  with  guns,  with  pickaxes, 
and  with  bludgeons,  encircled  the  sleeping 
village,  and,  dumb  but  implacable,  stood  like 
wild  boars  before  a  thicket.    Seated  on  sturdy 


The  Fortune  of  War  27 

Breton  horses,  moving  at  a  slow  trot,  Cadoudal, 
made  conspicuous  by  his  white  sash,  and  Tif- 
fauges,  a  sprig  of  broom  nodding  from  the 
band  of  his  great  hat,  led  their  army.  One 
hundred  feet  from  the  first  house  of  the  village, 
Cadoudal  drew  rein  and  called  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Hola,  Commander!" 

The  blinds  of  a  window  were  thrown  back, 
the  window  opened,  and  a  man,  powdered 
with  the  dust  of  a  quick  march,  his  coat  thorn- 
torn,  and  faded  by  sim  and  rain,  his  thick 
moustache  bristling  in  the  shadow  of  a  weather- 
stained  broad-brimmed  hat,  looked  out. 

"Well,"  he  cried,  "what  do  you  want?" 

Cadoudal  answered:  "I  want  to  avoid 
massacre.  You  are  in  this  place  with  a  hund- 
red men;  behind  me  three  thousand  await 
my  orders.     You  are  in  the  trap  set  for  me." 

"Come  and  take  me!"  cried  the  man  at  the 
window. 

"  Not  I !  You  are  a  brave  man ;  I  should  be 
a  coward  should  I  take  advantage  of  your  weak 
position.  Go!  The  road  to  Lorient  is  clear; 
we  shall  not  follow  you." 

"  You  are  crazy ! "  shouted  the  Blue.  "  Not 
so  does  a  Republican  read  his  orders.  I  was 
sent  here  to  defend  this  place.  You  came  here 
to  attack  it.     Do  your  duty." 


28  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Cadoudal  turned  to  his  men:  "Young 
ones,  you  hear!  He  will  not  go,  therefore  we 
must  put  him  out.  We  must  get  that  cargo 
and  we  cannot  get  it  until  we  have  taken 
Hennebont.  .  .  .  Forward!  In  the  name  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  and  for  the  King!'* 

In  an  instant  the  troops  had  disappeared  in 
the  town,  and  Cadoudal,  on  horse,  attended 
only  by  his  orderly,  Taillard,  faced  the  com- 
mander. The  Republican  contemplated  the 
man  advancing  alone  to  take  Hennebont, 
then,  with  face  flaming  with  wrath,  he  turned 
to  his  officers. 

"Send  two  men  to  warn  Lorient  that  we 
are  here,  stirrounded  by  Chouans!  Warn 
them  that  the  three  lookouts  are  still  in'  the 
tower.  And  now,  children,  let  us  show  them 
what  it  is  to  be  soldiers  of  Hohenlinden ! " 

A  furious  volley  pointed  his  harangue.  A 
cannon,  masked  behind  low  walls,  cast  out 
its  fire,  and  a  few  goatskin-coated  peasants 
dropped  in  the  furze.  But  the  hobnailed 
shoes  of  the  peasants  continued  to  prod  the 
ground,  and  in  silence,  with  faces  set,  the 
Chouans  pressed  forward. 

Fifty  feet  from  the  entrance  to  the  town, 
Cadoudal  halted,  and,  taking  off  his  hat,  held 
it  aloft.     The  troops  stood  still.     The   steel 


Fifty  feet  from  the  entrance  to  the  town,  Cadoudal  halted. 


The  Fortune  of  War  29 

of  their  carbines  flashed  in  the  light  of  the 
rising  sun;  and  through  thick  smoke,  with  an 
appalling  roar,  the  Chouans  fired.  The  ram- 
rods clicked,  the  smoke  cleared.  The  silent 
cannon  stood  alone,  its  gunners  dead  around  it. 
In  the  narrow  streets  Tiflfauges's  men,  caught 
between  the  walls  of  the  houses,  faced  the 
remnant  of  the  Blues.  The  neighing  horses 
reared.  After  a  furious  fight,  cutting  their  way, 
beating  down  the  peasants,  the  thinned  ranks 
of  the  Republican  squadron  passed,  leaving  be- 
hind their  dead  and  dying.  With  face  grave, 
with  head  bowed,  Cadoudal  rode  slowly  on. 

"Take  the  prisoners  to  the  Town  Hall,"  he 
said.     "Call  the  chiefs." 

The  Chouans  were  in  Hennebont,  in  all  the 
streets,  and  in  the  public  square  the  men  were 
preparing  for  breakfast.  Throughout  the 
town  soldiers  ransacked  the  storerooms,  and 
women,  defending  their  cupboards,  screamed. 
Laughing  and  swearing,  the  foragers  staggered 
from  the  houses,  laden  with  chickens,  bread, 
and  cheese.  From  barrels  rolled  out  of  the 
cellars  the  wine  ran  into  the  canteens;  and, 
sitting  on  the  ground  with  backs  against  the 
houses,  the  Chouans  ate  and  drank. 


30  The  Eagle's  Talon 

In  the  great  public  room  of  the  Town  Hall, 
Cadoudal  sat  at  the  mayor's  table,  sxirrounded 
by  his  officers,  counting  the  cost  of  the  morn- 
ing's work. 

"We  have  eighty  prisoners,"  said  Becde- 
lievre. 

"Put  them  in  carts  and  send  them  to  their 
regiments." 

"We  took  one  of  their  two  cannon.  Their 
hussars  carried  off  the  other." 

"Throw  the  cannon  in  the  river.  We  can- 
not take  it  with  us;  we  must  not  leave  it." 

"We  picked  up  three  hundred  guns  and  a 
large  nimiber  of  cartridges.  ..." 

"Good!  We  need  them.  How  many  men 
have  we  lost?" 

"One  hundred  and  five.  The  wounded 
are  on  the  way  to  Vannes." 

Cadoudal  sighed.  He  drummed  the  table 
with  his  thick  fingers. 

"Bring  in  the  Republican!" 

Seated  at  the  mayor's  table  in  the  great 
public  room  of  the  Town  Hall,  the  chief 
awaited  his  prisoner.  He  motioned  Becde- 
li^vre  and  TifTauges  to  places  at  the  table, 
threw  down  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  and 
shook  his  great  head. 

"Approach,  Commandant,"  he  said.     "Be 


The  Fortune  of  War  31 

seated.  Do  not  attempt  to  stand.  You  are 
wounded.  How  many  men  had  you  this 
morning?" 

"One  hundred." 

"One  hundred!  You  awaited  my  attack 
with  one  hundred  men?" 

The  Republican  lowered  his  eyes;  he  was 
silent. 

"You  supposed  that  I  too  had  but  a  hand- 
ftd.  You  thought  that  your  cavalry  could 
take  me.  .  .  .  Was  that  it?" 

The  officer  did  not  answer. 

"You  knew  my  movements;  three  times 
within  the  last  three  weeks  you  have  tried  to 
draw  me  into  a  trap.  Your  spies  keep  you 
well  informed." 

The  commandant  made  an  energetic  gesture. 

"General,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  nothing  to 
say  concerning  these  matters.  I  do  not 
question.     I  obey." 

"By  Notre  Dame  d'Aurayf'  cried  Cadoudal, 
"you  knew  a  little  something  of  what  you  were 
doing.  You  had  three  men  on  the  lookout  in 
the  tower.  We  have  eyes;  we  saw  them. 
They  vanished  when  the  fight  began.  Where 
are  they?" 

The  commandant  grinned.  '^Pardi!  they 
must  be  near  Lorient,  if  they  are  still  running. 


32  The  Eagle's  Talon 

It  was  not  their  business  to  fight;  they  ran. 
That  was  natural  enough." 

"What  became  of  the  woman?"  asked 
Georges,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  frank  face  of 
the  Republican. 

"  Ma  foil  She  must  be  in  Hennebont.  It 
is  hardly  probable  that  she  ran  after  the  men." 

"What  was  her  business  here?" 

The  Commandant  sneered.  "I  did  not 
ask.  Women,  nervous  parasites!  They  are 
in  the  way  in  time  of  peace ;  in  time  of  war  they 
are  dangerous." 

"They  are  valuable  auxiliaries  when  faith- 
ful," Cadoudal  answered  with  a  strange  smile. 
"They  fight  better  than  men.  .  .  .  Only, 
devil  take  them!  they  are  women,  and,  con- 
sequently, coquettish,  spiteful,  and  jealous. 
Commandant,  when  you  report  to  your  chief, 
tell  him  that  you  faced  three  thousand  Chou- 
ans  with  one  hundred  Blues.  That  ought  to 
satisfy  him." 

The  Republican  saluted.  At  the  same 
moment  Taillard  entered  and  said  in  answer 
to  Cadoudal's  questioning  look,  "She  is  here.'* 

Cadoudal  turned  to  an  officer: 

"Conduct  Monsieur  the  Commandant  out 
of  the  town.  Give  him  his  arms  and  his 
horse." 


The  Fortune  of  War  33 

The  Commandant  saluted,  and  the  two 
men  passed  through  the  door.  By  the  same 
door,  pale,  but  smiling,  the  beautiful  Countess 
de  Montmoran  entered.  She  advanced  with 
gliding  step,  agitating  her  white  hands  Uke  a 
pleased  child. 

' '  Hail  General ! ' '  she  cried  gaily.  ' '  I  salute 
the  conqueror!" 

In  sympathy  with  the  fury  of  his  chief, 
Becdelidvre  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face 
purpled.  The  Countess  looked  from  Becde- 
Hdvre,  menacing  in  look  and  attitude,  to 
Cadoudal,  livid,  dtunb  with  ftiry. 

"What  is  it?"  she  murmured.  ** Georges! 
Speak  to  me!  What  has  happened?  I  came, 
my  heart  filled  with  joy,  to  hail  your  triumph. 
I  find  you  cold,  deaf  to  my  voice,  blind  to  all 
that  my  looks  would  say!" 

Cadoudal  choked,  struggled  to  speak  coolly, 
and  said  in  a  voice  hoarse  and  changed: 

"Madame,  should  you  be  told  that  I  had 
betrayed  the  King,  forsworn  my  God,  and 
sold  the  Lilies,  what  should  you  say  to  me?" 

"What  a  question!  I  should  say  nothing. 
I  should  know  it  to  be  false.  I  would  stake 
my  head  on  your  honour." 

Cadoudal  ignored  her  protest;  he  continued: 

"Three  times  I  staked  my  life  on  my  faith 


34  The  Eagle's  Talon 

in  you.  When  I  went  to  Saint-Ravel  with 
twenty-one  men  to  meet  de  la  Maupliere,  a 
brigade  of  Blues  with  cannon  lay  in  wait  for 
me.     Who  told  them  that  I  was  coming?" 

"How  should  I  know?" 

"You  knew  that  I  was  going  there!" 

"  So  did  la  Mauplidre.     He  told." 

"Coward!  You  are  safe  in  accusing  him. 
He  is  dead;  he  cannot  answer  you.  Last 
week  I  barely  escaped  a  trap  set  at  La  Hous- 
saye ;  had  Tiff auges  failed  to  prevent  my  going 
to  La  Houssaye,  I  should  have  been  killed  or 
cast  into  prison.  Last  night  before  I  set 
out  for  Hennebont,  you  made  me  tell  you 
twice  that  I  was  going  with  less  than  a  score 
of  men." 

"I  was  anxious!  I  questioned  you  because 
I  love  you!"  cried  the  woman.  "Do  you 
accuse  me  of  telling  the  enemy?  How  could 
I  have  told  them?  I  was  at  de  K6rl^an! 
Should  I  have  come  to  Hennebont  had  I 
known  that  there  was  to  be  fighting?" 

"You  knew  it!"  roared  Cadoudal.  "Your 
agents  went  ahead  of  you  to  warn  the  Blues!" 

"My  agents?" 

"Your  agents!  The  men  in  the  church 
tower.  They  ran  like  hares  at  the  first  shot. 
Defend  yourself!    What  have  you  to  say?" 


The  Fortune  of  War  35 

"I  shall  not  answer  your  insiilts.  This  is 
my  reward  for  my  devotion." 

"  I  am  going  to  find  out  what  they  paid  you 
for  your  'devotion.'  The  price  they  paid  is 
on  your  person  at  this  moment." 

The  beautiful  woman  started  as  if  stung, 
and  turning  her  livid  face  from  his  threatening 
gaze,  she  stammered: 

"You  know  that  I  carry  my  fortune  day 
and  night,  that  I  know  that  nothing  belonging 
to  a  partisan  of  the  throne  is  safe  from  the 
ferrets  of  the  consular  service." 

Her  duplicity  exasperated  Cadoudal. 

"Ah,  ah!  My  pearl  of  fidelity!"  he  cried 
with  a  hoarse  laugh.  "I  shall  soon  know 
what  treasures  you  have  upon  your  person !  If 
we  find  recently  acquired  riches,  gold  or  gems 
that  I  have  not  seen — the  gold  you  sold  me  for 
.  .  .  banknotes  or  diamonds — then  what?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  gasped  the  terrified 
woman. 

"I  will  show  you." 

"  Do  not  lay  hands  upon  me ! "  she  screamed. 

"  It  would  not  be  the  first  time,"  he  answered 
brutally.  "But  this  time  I  will  use  your 
means;  I  will  work  through  a  substitute. 
Here,  Taillard!  Search  this  woman  as  you 
search  your  prisoners." 


36  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"He  shall  not  touch  me!"  shrieked  the 
Countess.  ' '  A  lout !  a  common  soldier !  I  will 
not  suffer  it!  Georges!  Oh,  I  beg  of  you! 
Remember!  I  have  loved  you! '  *  With  a  bound 
Taillard  reached  her.  ' '  Wretch ! ' '  she  shrieked , 
'  *  Brigand ! ' '  She  had  drawn  a  pistol  from  her 
skirt.  As  she  pointed  it,  Taillard  threw  up 
her  arm  and  the  bullet  pierced  the  ceiling. 
In  an  instant  the  Chouan  had  thrown  her  and 
searched  her  filmy  laces  with  eager  hands. 
In  the  pocket  of  an  underskirt  he  found  a 
leathern  bag  and  a  sachet-like  portfolio.  He 
threw  them  on  the  table.  Tiffauges  emptied 
the  portfolio  of  its  gold  and  banknotes;  then, 
opening  the  bag,  he  let  fall  upon  the  table  a 
shower  of  unset  rubies  and  diamonds.  ' '  Jewels 
as  well  as  gold,"  he  muttered.  "Greedy 
devil!" 

"Eh,  ma  belle,""  snarled  Cadoudal,  "your 
devotion  was  a  paying  business.  I  will  sell 
the  stones  and  buy  guns  for  my  men.  Take 
the  money,  Tiffauges;  that  is  our  first  spoils 
of  war.     Divide  it  among  your  soldiers." 

The  Countess  gnashed  her  teeth.  "May 
you  die  like  dogs!"  she  screamed,  making 
wild  efforts  to  escape  from  the  grip  of  the 
orderly.  "Fiends!  Cowards!  ...  to  mal- 
treat a  woman!" 


The  Fortune  of  War  37 

Beside  himself  Cadoudal  shouted : 

"  Last  night  you  drank  from  my  glass.  .  .  . 
I  trusted  you.  Barbazan  warned  me  of  your 
treachery;  Tiffauges  saw  clear.  They  were 
watching  you.  You  came  to  Hennebont  to 
see  me  trapped!  Eh,  Men,  Jezebel!  We  were 
on  time.  But  the  game  turned  hunter  and 
the  victim  turned  executioner." 

"Executioner/''  shrieked  the  woman,  mad 
with  fear. 

"You  are  not  fit  to  die ! "  Cadoudal  answered 
with  a  contemptuous  laugh.  "I  shall  not 
kill  you.  I  know  no  death  fitted  to  crime  so 
vile  as  yours.  The  block  has  been  washed 
clean  with  royal  blood,  and  bullets  are  for  men. 
I  might  hang  you;  but  it  is  not  my  habit  to 
kill  women.  You  shall  live  to  carry  on  your 
business.  Take  her,  Taillard;  I  give  her  to 
you." 

With  a  growl  the  Chouan  seized  her.  Her 
nails  tore  his  cheeks.  His  coarse  mouth 
stopped  her  cries.  With  a  howl  of  triumph  he 
carried  her  away. 

Coldly  indifferent,  Cadoudal  sorted  his 
papers,  put  on  his  hat,  and  turned  to  the  door. 

"And  now,"  he  said  to  his  men,  "en  avant! 
We  must  be  at  the  mouth  of  the  Blavet 
within  an  hour.     Becdelidvre,  you  will  fall  on 


38  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Kerentrec,  while  Tiffauges  lends  a  hand  to 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor  at  Lorient.  We  must 
get  oiir  guns  from  the  frigate  and  force  an 
entrance  to  the  town." 

Like  boys  released  from  school,  they  ran 
down  the  slope.     Cadoudal  sent  for  the  horses. 

On  the  public  square  the  troops  were 
strapping  their  haversacks,  making  ready  for 
the  march.  From  the  slope  they  saw  the 
mouth  of  the  Blavet.  The  sea  was  running 
high. 

' '  Look ! ' '  said  Tiffauges.  ' '  The  sea  is  high ; 
it  will  be  easy  to  get  off  the  guns!  ..." 

"They  are  lowering  the  boats!  Look! 
what  is  that?  By  heaven!  the  Blues  are  after 
them!'' 

As  the  boats  touched  the  water,  a  fleet 
of  fishing-barks,  manned  by  Republicans, 
emerged  from  the  fog  and  fired  upon  the 
frigate. 

Cadoudal  knew  that  to  lose  the  cargo  would 
be  to  lose  the  only  means  of  arming  his  troops. 
On  horse,  followed  by  his  men,  he  hastened 
toward  the  Scorff.  Swinging  with  the  tide, 
the  frigate  lay  under  the  double  fire  of  Port- 
Louis  and  the  fishing  fleet.  A  shell  from  Port- 
Louis  cut  her  mainmast  and  covered  her 
decks  with  canvas  and  with  cordage.     Under 


With  a  growl  the  Chouan  seized  her." 


The  Fortune  of  War  39 

fire  of  the  Blues,  the  boats  fell  back  against 
the  ship.  A  distance  of  one  hour's  march  lay 
between  Cadoudal  and  the  river,  and  he  knew 
it.  Even  as  he  gazed,  powerless  to  offer  aid, 
a  brig  in  command  of  Cosmao  put  out  from 
Lorient  and  advanced  under  full  sail  to  attack 
the  frigate.  Covering  the  frigate  from  end 
to  end,  the  brig  opened  fire  and  heaped  the 
decks  with  dead  and  dying.  The  men  in  the 
small  boats  ran  up  the  sides  of  the  frigate, 
and,  her  mainmast  gone,  her  two  remaining 
masts  carrying  all  their  canvas,  she  made 
for  the  high  seas,  leaving  her  small  boats 
tossing  in  the  Blavet. 

In  the  fight  that  followed  Cosmao  foiled  the 
efforts  of  the  Chouans,  and,  well  pleased  with 
his  work,  sailed  for  Lorient,  towing  the  aban- 
doned boats. 

The  loss  of  the  English  cargo  was  followed 
by  the  failure  of  the  attempt  made  by  de 
Barbazan  and  Coster  de  Saint- Victor.  Brune, 
at  the  head  of  his  division,  fell  upon  the  weak 
detachment  of  the  Chouans,  and  sweeping  the 
despairing  ranks  with  the  hail  of  his  mitrail- 
leuse and  pursuing  them  with  his  cavalry,  he 
took  stem  revenge  for  Cadoudal's  evasion  of 
the  trap  set  for  him  at  Hennebont. 

Cadoudal's    magnanimous    return    of    the 


40  The  Eagle's  Talon 

wounded,  his  release  of  the  commandant,  and 
his  easy  rout  of  the  hussars,  had  exasperated 
the  Republican  general.  Falling  on  the  Chou- 
ans  with  all  his  strength  he  turned  their 
flank  and  drove  them  to  the  sea.  Forced 
back  inch  by  inch  in  the  beginning,  lashed  to 
desperate  flight  along  the  Scorfif,  Cadoudal 
seemed  doomed  to  suffer  a  disaster  like  that 
of  Quiberon.  Swift  as  the  wind  Brune's 
flying  artillery  had  barred  the  only  way  of 
retreat  for  the  Chouans.  Hot  combat  was 
on  near  K6rentrec. 

Rounding  Pont-Scorff  the  Republican  cav- 
alry pursued  the  men  of  de  Barbazan  and 
Coster.  Just  at  that  moment,  by  one  of  the 
manoeuvres  known  to  history,  Cadoudal 
assembled  the  Chasseurs  of  the  King  and 
turned  them  on  the  centre  fixed  by  the  Repub- 
lican leader  as  the  concentration  point  of  his 
work  of  destruction.  With  frenzied  shouts 
the  Chouans  charged  and  forced  back  Brune's 
grenadiers.  Stirroimded  by  his  chiefs,  Cadou- 
dal advanced  slowly,  hidden  by  the  smoke  of  a 
wild  fire.  His  men  were  breast  to  breast  with 
the  grenadiers  of  the  Republic.  The  smoke 
was  dense,  and  powerless  to  distinguish  friends 
from  enemies,  afraid  of  killing  their  own  men, 
the  Blues  ceased  firing.     Beating  and  beaten, 


The  Fortune  of  War  41 

veiled  by  smoke,  Republicans  and  Chouans 
swept  on  toward  the  prairie.  On  the  prairie, 
breast  high  in  the  moorgrass,  seen  only  by  the 
men  of  his  own  command,  Cadoudal  swung 
his  hat  and  dropped. 

Bnme's  men  continued  their  slow  fire  for  a 
time,  then  the  scattering  shots  ceased. 

The  wind,  blowing  from  the  sea,  broke  up 
the  low-lying  banks  of  smoke,  and  the  Blues, 
showing  their  heads  here  and  there  in  the 
thorn-broom,  saw  that  the  Chouans  had 
escaped.  By  one  of  his  strategic  feats,  Cadou- 
dal had,  at  the  last  minute,  dispersed  his  men; 
and  Brune,  thinking  that  he  held  him  fast, 
stood  like  a  man  closing  his  hand  on  the 
empty  air. 

Conqueror  in  the  morning,  conquered  in  the 
evening,  Cadoudal  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  SNARER  OF  MEN 

nPHE  fight  at  Hennebont  closed  the  Grand 
•*  Chouannerie.  Brune,masterof  Morbihan, 
had  driven  a  few  despairing  men  led  by  Cadou- 
dal's  lieutenants  into  the  woods  and  on  to  the 
moors.  Cadoudal  had  crossed  the  sea  and  been 
received  by  the  Count  d'Artois,  as  Villars  was 
received  by  Louis  XIV  after  Malplaquet. 
Promoted  to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-General, 
decorated  with  the  grand  cordon  of  Saint- 
Louis,  and  recognised  by  the  princes  as  the 
support  of  the  throne,  Cadoudal  had  com- 
passed all  things  demanded  by  his  pride;  but 
deep  hatred  of  Bonaparte  niled  his  mind  and 
the  honours  bestowed  upon  him  by  the  princes 
were  as  nothing  to  him.  He  aspired  to  stand 
before  France  as  the  hero  of  the  monarchy, 
and  to  lay  the  man  of  the  Revolution  in  the 
dust.  A  few  weeks  passed  in  the  ceremonious 
insipidity  of  court  life  gave  him  a  homesick 
longing  for  freedom.     Having  obtained  leave 

of  absence,  he  bade  adieu  to  the  Count  d'Ar- 

42 


A  Snarer  of  Men  43 

tois,  declared  that  he  was  needed  in  France, 
and  set  out  in  disguise  for  a  little  seaport  on 
the  English  coast,  where  he  awaited  an 
opportiinity  to  cross  to  Normandy. 

The  close  of  the  insurrection  had  given 
intense  satisfaction  to  the  people  of  Paris, 
and  under  the  firm  rule  of  Bonaparte  France 
had  entered  upon  an  era  of  prosperity.  Bona- 
parte held  the  public  business  in  a  steady 
grasp  and  the  peace  maintained  by  force  of 
arms  conferred  inestimable  tranquillity  upon 
the  harassed  sufferers  of  the  Revolution. 
Tired  out  by  many  victories,  the  Alliance  had 
halted  to  take  breath.  The  power  of  the 
Consul  was  boundless.  The  people  were 
ruled  by  the  breath  of  his  spirit,  and  the  cry 
heard  at  the  close  of  the  military  reviews. 
Long  live  the  Emperor!  echoed  the  universal 
satisfaction.  Resuscitated  by  the  impulsion 
given  by  the  extravagant  tastes  of  the  Court 
of  the  Tuileries,  luxury  had  reappeared  wher- 
ever the  means  of  the  people  made  extrava- 
gance possible.  The  looms  of  Lyons  clicked 
day  and  night.  Extremely  simple  in  his  own 
tastes  and  in  his  dress,  Bonaparte  exacted 
the  utmost  elegance  of  dress  on  the  part  of  the 
officials  of  his  Government.  The  extrava- 
gance of  the   Consul  was  severely  criticised 


44  The  Eagle's  Talon 

by  the  Republican  party,  chiefly  represented 
by  Moreau,  whose  disapproval  had  increased 
the  bitterness  between  the  conqueror  of 
Hohenlinden  and  the  conqueror  of  Marengo. 
Moreau's  friends  blamed  him  because  he  had 
lent  his  own  glory  to  Bonaparte's  ascent  to 
sovereign  power.  Public  opinion  was  divided 
between  the  two  conquerors;  it  was  under- 
stood that  should  Bonaparte  disappear, 
Moreau,  and  Moreau  only,  could  take  his 
place.  Lucien  and  Joseph,  fiuious  but  power- 
less partisans  of  Bonaparte  and  pretenders 
to  his  succession,  were  forced  to  listen  in 
silence  to  the  loud-voiced  rumours.  Bona- 
parte's feeling  against  Moreau  made  him 
keenly  suspicious.  Pichegru,  who  had  sought 
refuge  in  London  after  his  escape  from  Sinna- 
mary,  had  made  his  lodgings  a  hotbed  of 
intrigue.  He  was  known  to  be  on  excellent 
terms  with  Cadoudal,  and  to  be  plotting 
for  the  overthrow,  or  for  the  death  of  Bona- 
parte. Intrigue  was  rife,  but  the  world  of 
Paris  was  fast  bound  in  the  thrall  of  pleasure. 
The  twelve  years  passed  in  terror,  in  bodily 
suffering,  and  in  mental  anguish,  were  like  the 
memory  of  a  nightmare.  Assured  of  the 
invincible  protection  of  a  powerful  military 
niler,  rich  and  poor  alike  rejoiced  in  peace, 


A  Snarer  of  Men  45 

and  asked  for  nothing  but  to  forget.  Regular 
pursuit  of  the  daily  business  had  filled  the 
public  coffers,  and  with  the  rettim  of  money, 
the  taste  for  everything  that  money  can  buy 
reasserted  itself.  Josephine  had  acquired 
Malmaison  and  planted  her  rose  garden,  and 
there,  on  Sundays,  she  received  all  who  hoped 
for  the  favoiu"  of  Bonaparte.  It  was  at  the 
time  where  the  flower  of  the  world  of  art  laid 
gifts  at  the  feet  of  the  beautiful  mother  of 
Hortense  and  Eugene  Beauhamais;  when 
little  plays  and  splendid  balls  were  given  for 
the  young  step-daughter  of  the  Consul,  when 
the  master  of  France  rolled  the  hoople  and 
swung  his  nervous  body  over  the  cross-bar 
with  the  children  of  his  former  beloved. 
Happy  time  of  Promise!  By  far  the  happiest 
time  for  him  who  in  a  life  of  triumph  mingled 
with  anguish  and  humiliation  was  to  sound 
the  depths  of  the  pathos  of  human  destiny. 

On  a  balmy  day  in  May,  1803,  a  woman, 
young,  beautiful,  and  attired  with  incompar- 
able elegance,  alighted  from  a  cabriolet,  be- 
fore the  well-known  milliner's  establishment, 
The  Blue  Bonnet,  in  the  rue  Saint-Honor6 
and  entering  the  shop,  greeted  the  attendant. 
"Yes,  I  am  Coimtess  de  Montmoran.    I  see 


46  The  Eagle's  Talon 

that  you  remember  me!  M.  Lerebourg  is 
at  home,  I  hope.  He  is?  ...  I  am  glad  of 
that;  my  time  is  precious." 

'T  will  call  Monsieur." 

"No,"  interrupted  the  Countess.  "An- 
nounce me.     I  will  go  up  to  the  salon." 

The  attendant  opened  the  door  of  a  long, 
beautifully  appointed  Louis  XVI  salon  on  the 
second  floor,  begged  the  visitor  to  be  seated, 
went  on  to  Lerebourg's  office,  announced  the 
Countess,  and  returned  to  the  shop  on  the 
ground  floor.     Lerebourg  appeared  at  once. 

"Eh,  Lerebotirg,"  cried  the  Countess,  "draw 
your  chair  close!  I  have  news;  Coster  de 
Saint- Victor  was  seen  in  Paris  late  last  night. 
I  was  informed  early  this  morning.  If  he  is 
here,  Cadoudal  must  be  here.  How  can  we 
catch  him.*^ 

The  eyes  of  the  pretty  creature  sparkled 
with  hatred  and  her  voice  vibrated  with  rage. 
Lerebourg,  calm  and  smiling,  answered : 

"We  shall  do  it!  .  .  .  and  then,  when  I 
hold  him  fast,  he  shall  answer  for  what  he  has 
done!" 

"That  will  not  satisfy  me,"  she  replied 
with  savage  emphasis.  "His  infamies  were 
committed  in  the  name  of  the  princes;  I  will 
hold  the  princes  responsible!  ...  If  I  could 


A  Snarer  of  Men  47 

find  some  way  to  entice  the  Count  d'Artois 
to  France " 

"You  exaggerate,  Coxintess,"  answered 
Lerebourg.  "We  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  princes.  Let  us  strike  the  real  authors 
of  our  ills,  the  men  who  did  the  work.  You 
may  tortiire  Taillard.  .  .  .  Cadoudal's  head 
shall  roll  in  blood ;  I  find  all  that  reasonable — 
but  what  have  the  princes  done?" 

"What  have  the  princes  done?"  mocked 
the  pretty  woman,  stamping  her  foot.  ' '  What 
have  they  not  done?  Who  stole  into  your 
life  and  beguiled  the  girl  who  used  to  sit 
here  sweetly  smiling,  like  a  happy  child?  She 
would  be  here  to-day  if  the  pretenders  had  not 
sent  their  emissaries  to  Paris  to  kill  Bonaparte ! '  * 

Pale,  haggard,  silent,  Lerebourg  searched 
the  shadows  as  if  hoping  to  evoke  a  phantom. 
Before  his  eyes  the  cushions  of  the  great  arm- 
chair, where  she  had  so  often  sat  half-hidden, 
smiling  over  some  ancient  romantic  story  of 
the  days  of  chivalry,  seemed  still  to  bear  the 
imprint  of  her  girHsh  head.  He  sighed:  "I 
have  tried  to  avenge  her.  They  have  always 
escaped  me.  Coster,  like  Georges  Cadoudal, 
bears  a  charmed  life.  But  I  have  not  lost 
hope.  I  am  not  the  only  one  at  work;  our 
party  is  strong." 


48  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  Countess  murmured : 

"Are  you  sure  that  Fouch6  is  not  playing  a 
double  game?" 

"Sure?  How  can  I  be  sure?  He  has  al- 
ways betrayed  something  or  some  one.  But 
Braconneau  is  close  to  him  and  he  is  true  to 
us!" 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"Absolutely  sure.  Braconneau  is  the  in- 
carnation of  professional  duty.  I  remember  a 
remark  he  made  to  me:  'A  spy  must  be  doubly 
careful  of  his  probity  because  his  calling  gives 
him  a  bad  name.  He  must  shun  even  the  ap- 
pearance of  evil/  Braconneau  is  true.  We 
will  warn  him  that  Coster  de  Saint- Victor  is 
in  Paris.  He  will  find  him.  But  tell  me, 
Countess,  who  gave  you  your  information?" 

De  Montmoran  laughed. 

"A  pretty  woman  whom  I  see  often  at 
Frascati  of  late.  She  has  talked  to  me  of  her 
entanglement  with  an  Italian,  the  Marquis 
Angiolo  Crescenti,  an  attache  of  the  Legation 
of  Parma.  He  has  been  in  Paris  only  a  few 
days.  Angiolo  is  a  very  handsome  fellow, 
very  alluring.  .  .  .  But  he  has  a  scar  on  his 
left  cheek.  Doubtless  you  recall  the  fact  that 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor  received  a  bad  sword 
thrust  in  battle  three  years  ago?" 


A  Snarer  of  Men  49 

"I  remember  that.  But  are  you  sure? 
More  than  one  man  has  a  scar  upon  his  cheek." 

"There  can  be  no  mistaking  this  case.  I 
remembered  the  fact  of  the  scar  and  I  asked 
little  Sinclair  to  let  me  look  at  her  Marquis. 
I  saw  him  at  faro,  playing  high  and  winning. 
He  was  always  lucky!  .  .  .  There  can  be  no 
doubt  about  it!  It  is  Coster,  His  skin  has 
been  stained;  his  hair  is  hidden  by  a  wig  of 
black  curls,  and  his  pretty  Henri  IV  beard  and 
fine  moustache  have  disappeared;  but  it  is 
Coster  de  Saint- Victor." 

"And  what  of  the  woman?    Who  is  she?" 

"A  young  widow;  the  friend  of  a  mer- 
chant. She  is  fearless,  alluring,  and  capri- 
cious. .  .  .  Her  last  lover  was  Foumier  of 
the  Guards,  a  fellow  as  brutal  as  a  Cossack, 
and  the  best  swordsman  in  France.  We  can 
work  against  Coster  through  his  jealousy." 

Lerebourg  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  re- 
pressing his  impatience,  he  answered: 

"  Countess,  your  information  calls  for  imme- 
diate action.  I  shall  send  word  to  Bracon- 
neau  at  once.     If  Cadoudal  is  in  Paris " 

"He  is  in  Paris,"  interrupted  the  Coimtess. 
"There  is  no  question  as  to  that." 

"R6al  will  know  how  to  reward  the  man  who 
takes  him!    Bonaparte  will  pay  a  high  price 


50  The  Eagle's  Talon 

for  his  enemy.  Cadoudal  is  the  only  man 
he  fears.  He  detests  Moreau;  he  despises 
Pichegru;  Cadoudal  he  dreads." 

The  Countess  laughed.  Lerebourg  contin- 
ued: 

'Tf  Crescenti  is  really  Saint- Victor,  it  will 
be  safer  for  you,  Madame,  to  keep  out  of  his 
sight.     If  he  sees  you,  you  are  lost." 

'T  do  not  think  so!  I  think  that  I  might 
find  means  to  persuade  him  that  I  am  working 

for  him.    If  I  convince  him  that  I  love  him " 

She  smiled  archly.    "  N'est-ce  pas,  Lerebourg?  " 

Moved  by  an  impulse  of  horror,  Lerebourg 
turned  away. 

"Use  your  own  judgment.  Countess,"  he 
said.  "In  my  opinion  you  are  running 
dangerous  risks." 

"It  is  not  the  first  time!  Leave  everything 
in  that  part  of  the  matter  to  me;  if  he  sees  me, 
I  shall  make  him  think  that  I  have  not  re- 
cognised him.  .  .  .  And  now,  Lerebourg, 
au  revoirf    You  will  do  your  work.f^" 

"At  once.  I  shall  send  Braconneau  to  you. 
You  can  give  him  his  orders." 

The  Countess  de  Montmoran  was  a  native 
of  Brittany.  From  the  time  of  her  arrival 
in  Paris  she  had  lived  in  the  world  of  adven- 
turers.    Libertinage  and  dissipation  ruled  the 


A  Snarer  of  Men  51 

society  of  Paris  from  the  close  of  the  Director- 
ate to  the  opening  of  the  Empire.  The  twelve 
years  of  Revolution  had  passed  over  France 
like  a  never-ending  cyclone,  overturning  the 
society  of  the  ancient  nobility  and  setting 
upon  a  firm  foundation  a  society  as  ignorant 
of  the  rights  of  property  as  of  honour  and 
religion.  Secure  in  armed  peace,  the  people 
basked  in  the  prosperity  due  to  the  rule  of 
the  Consul.  The  land  had  changed  hands 
repeatedly,  and  the  new  landholders  were 
not  sure  of  the  validity  of  their  rights.  The 
churches  had  been  closed,  the  priests  had 
been  proscribed,  and  the  faithful  had  with- 
drawn beyond  the  reach  of  the  clergy.  The 
clergy  seemed  inclined  to  favour  the  Govern- 
ment, and  to  smile  leniently  upon  the  artless 
dissipation  of  the  masses,  who  loved  life  all 
the  better  for  having  felt  the  breath  of  death. 
The  theatres  were  gorged  and  the  martial 
pomp  of  the  reviews  and  parades  attracted 
not  only  the  people  of  the  city  but  all  who  could 
get  into  the  city  from  the  outlying  coimtry. 
Building  had  begun  in  the  ruined  districts  and 
the  public  work  and  the  activity  of  the  manu- 
facturers gave  satisfactory  employment  to  all. 
Some  of  the  priests  had  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance.    The    chxirches,    long    forgotten, 


52  The  Eagle's  Talon 

were  open  for  public  worship;  the  nobles  were 
returning  from  exile,  and  the  public  manners 
were  improving.  The  gross  equality  of  Sans- 
Culottism  had  had  its  day.  The  gilded  clique 
of  Fr6ron  had  put  the  rough  upstarts  of  the 
world  of  low  intrigue  in  their  places.  Men 
rivalled  women  in  luxury  and  elegance  of  dress. 
Their  garments  were  of  silk  and  velvet;  and 
golden  chains,  jewels,  and  floods  of  delicate 
lace  were  worn  ever3rwhere.  On  the  bare 
shoulders  of  the  women  of  the  first  Consulate 
antique  cameos,  or  cameos  imitating  the 
antique,  caught  together  the  ever-falling 
shoulder-straps  of  the  tightly-drawn  Empire 
robes.  It  was  the  fashion  to  live  in  the  open 
air.  Tivoli  was  the  rendez-vous  of  the  fine 
world,  and  Frascati  was  its  rival. 

In  the  soft  afternoons,  in  the  clear  light  of 
Paris,  the  ladies  of  the  world  of  fashion  pro- 
menaded in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  and  on 
the  terrace  of  Les  Feuillants.  And  there,  and  in 
like  places,  they  met  by  appointment.  High- 
hung  cabriolets,  in  charge  of  little  grooms, 
waited  outside  the  gardens  with  the  richly- 
caparisoned  horses  of  the  officers  of  the  army 
of  the  Republic,  while  in  the  gardens  the  gay 
world  circulated,  met,  and  exchanged  greet- 
ings.   An  atmosphere  of  assurance  and  con- 


"In  the  gardens  the  gay  world  circulated,  met,  and  exchanged 
greetings." 


A  Snarer  of  Men  53 

tent  enveloped  the  resuscitated  victims  of  the 
Revolution,  and  the  universal  release  from 
care  was  shown  in  the  coquetry  of  the  women 
and  in  the  gallantry  of  the  men. 

Bonaparte  had  never  been  more  popular; 
he  was  in  reality,  and  in  all  respects,  the 
master  of  France.  His  influence  was  felt 
everywhere;  not  within  the  memory  of  history 
or  legend  had  there  been  a  personality  more 
powerful,  a  mind  more  broad,  or  a  will  firmer 
or  more  clearly  manifest.  While  waiting  for 
the  signal  to  mount  the  imperial  throne,  Bona- 
parte bent  all  his  executive  ability  to  the 
work  of  establishing  the  nation's  business  on  a 
firm  basis.  He  planned  for  the  perfecting  of 
the  army  because  the  army  belonged  to 
France;  but  he  had  lost  all  thought  of  war. 
Leaving  his  generals  to  their  own  devices, 
he  passed  his  time  with  the  jurisconsults  and 
administrators,  discussing  the  best  means  of 
improving  Paris  and  creating  sources  of  well- 
being  for  the  masses.  His  home  life  was  calm. 
He  had  overcome  his  slavish  passion  for  his 
wife.  The  love  that  had  burned  so  fiercely 
as  to  efface  his  bitter  jealousy  when  the  stories 
of  her  infidelity  had  reached  his  ears  during 
two  different  campaigns,  had  cooled  to  friend- 
ship alternated  with  gusts  of  feeling  bom  of 


54  The  Eagle's  Talon 

habit  and  of  memory;  and — serious  symptom 
in  his  case — he  had  begun  to  realise  that  there 
were  women  in  a  world  outside  of  the  yellow 
boudoir  where  Josephine  awaited  him  in  the 
languorous  and  perfumed  gloom. 

He  had  been  false  not  once  but  at  different 
times.  Georges  Wemmer,  an  actress  of  the 
Theatre  Frangais,  Duchesnois's  rival,  and  the 
object  of  the  ardent  pursuit  of  the  Consul's 
brothers,  had  attracted  his  attention. 

It  was  rumoured  in  Paris  that  it  was  the 
Consul's  habit  to  stroll  through  the  city  at- 
tended by  one  of  his  young  generals,  Duroc  or 
Junot.  The  police  found  it  difficult  to  keep 
watch  of  the  Consul.  Bonaparte  clothed  his 
gallant  meetings  with  mystery.  It  was  known 
to  his  police  that  while  he  walked  the  streets 
and  lanes  of  Paris  at  dead  of  night,  a  score  of 
the  Chouans  followed  him,  awaiting  their 
opportunity  to  accomplish  his  removal.  But 
Bonaparte  was  a  fatalist,  and  believing  that 
he  could  not  die  before  the  appointed  hotir, 
he  braved  the  poniards  of  the  assassins  as 
coolly  as  he  had  faced  the  fire  of  the  battlefield. 

The  beautiful  Countess  de  Montmoran 
reckoned  upon  the  Consul's  temerity  in  shap- 
ing her  schemes.  Her  aim  was  to  meet  Bona- 
parte and  to  offer  to  deliver  Cadoudal  and  his 


A  Snarer  of  Men  55 

chiefs  into  the  hands  of  the  police  of  the 
Consul.  She  was  in  position  to  act  boldly, 
but  she  knew  that  she  must  talk  to  the  Consul 
before  taking  the  decisive  step.  She  knew 
that  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries  was  watched 
by  the  Chouans'  spies ;  therefore  she  could  not 
go  to  the  Tuileries.  She  knew  that  the 
Royalists  had  tried  and  true  agents  close  to 
the  Consul,  and  that  those  agents  kept  record 
of  all  who  visited  the  palace  either  to  speak 
to  Bonaparte  or  to  carry  on  their  intrigues 
with  Josephine. 

Montmoran  had  contemplated  writing  to 
the  Consul  and  asking  for  an  interview ;  but  she 
knew  that  her  interview  must  be  protected  by 
secrecy,  and  that  she  had  no  right  to  ask  for  a 
secret  audience.  Bonaparte  would  have  no 
reason  for  granting  her  petition.  Even  should 
he  consider  it,  how  could  she  talk  to  him 
without  exciting  the  suspicions  of  the  spies? 

She  was  searching  for  means  warranting 
her  to  approach  the  Consul,  when  chance  gave 
her  a  favourable  opportunity.  A  masked 
ball  was  to  be  given  by  Mme.  de  Regnault  de 
Saint- Jean-d'Angely,  and  in  order  to  do  honour 
to  one  of  his  most  devoted  servants,  Bona- 
parte had  promised  to  lend  his  presence  to 
the  brilliant  function.    Josephine,  who  was 


56  The  Eagle's  Talon 

excessively  fastidious  and  sensitive,  dreaded 
the  liberty  of  conduct  permitted  by  the  domino 
and  mask.  She  had  sent  her  regrets;  there- 
fore Bonaparte  was  free.  Accompanied  by 
Duroc,  he  arrived  at  the  hotel  Saint- Jean- 
d'Ang61y,  at  eleven  o'clock,  intending  to  make 
his  appearance,  greet  his  hostess,  and  dis- 
appear. Completely  disguised  by  a  close, 
black  satin  domino  and  a  black  velvet  mask 
bearded  with  black  lace,  he  entered  the  ball- 
room, followed  by  Duroc. 

Duroc,  also  in  a  black  satin  domino,  and 
masked  with  black  velvet  flounced  with  lace, 
had  attached  to  his  own  shoulder  the  little 
knot  of  ribbon  habitually  worn  by  the  Consul 
as  a  sign  recognisable  by  his  trusted  friends. 
As  they  entered  the  ballroom,  the  Governor  ot 
Paris  whispered  to  the  wearer  of  the  ribbon : 

"Good-evening,  General.  I  have  arranged 
everything  according  to  your  orders." 

To  his  astonishment  the  domino  marked 
with  the  grey  knot  passed  in  silence,  while 
from  the  other  mask  came  the  imperious 
whisper: 

''Begone,  Murat!  You  will  attract  the  at- 
tention of  the  spies!  *- 

Miu*at  obeyed  instantly  and  the  two  black 
masks  took  refuge  from  the  heat  and  light  in 


A  Snarer  of  Men  57 

a  little  darkened  salon  opening  on  the  dining- 
hall.  Bonaparte,  seated  with  back  to  the 
door,  asked  Duroc  for  a  glass  of  water.  Duroc 
frowned. 

"You  are  not  to  drink  water,"  he  answered. 
"  My  orders  are  plain.  I  know  their  meaning. 
I  am  asking  myself  how  you,  who  know  the 
vital  meaning  of  the  soldier's  order,  can  bring 
yourself  to  tempt  me  to  disobey." 

Bonaparte  answered  meekly: 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  drinking  the  water,  Duroc. 
My  face  is  on  fire.  I  wish  to  wet  my  hand- 
kerchief and  cool  it." 

"I  shall  not  leave  you  for  one  instant.  I 
am  under  orders!"  Duroc  said. 

"Ridiculous!  .  .  .  No  one  knows  that  I  am 
in  this  house.     My  face  is  afire!" 

"I  am  responsible  for  your  safety,"  the 
yoimg  general  replied.  ' '  Be  reasonable ;  think 
of  France.  Is  it  worth  while  to  risk  your 
life  and  imperil  the  peace  of  the  country  be- 
cause your  mask  has  heated  yotir  face?  To 
leave  you  for  one  instant  might  be  to  deliver 
you  to  an  assassin.  The  ballroom  is  safer  than 
this  trap !  I  will  not  leave  you  .  .  .  not  even 
if  you  order  me." 

Vexed,  but  touched,  Bonaparte  sprang  from 
his  chair,  laughing. 


58  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Have  your  way!  Give  me  air  if  you  will 
not  give  me  water.  Let  us  escape  from  the 
trap." 

Side  by  side  they  crossed  the  room.  They 
had  reached  the  door  opening  on  the  corridor, 
when  a  white  domino  entered  like  a  wind- 
blown cloud,  and  addressed  not  the  mask  with 
the  pearl-grey  knot  but  the  mask  without  the 
knot: 

"General  Bonaparte,  I  must  speak  to  you! 
I  have  important  information  to  communi- 
cate to  you  for  your  own  good." 

Bonaparte  answered:  "Madame,  the  Con- 
sul is  no  longer  here;  he  retired  immediately 
after  he  entered  the  ballroom." 

The  white  domino  murmtired  eagerly: 

"You  are  in  error!  Mme.  Regnault  has 
just  assured  me  that  the  General  came  with 
General  Duroc.  She  assured  me  that  I  should 
know  General  Duroc  by  the  pearl-grey  knot 
habitually  worn  by  the  Consul,  but  worn  to- 
night by  his  guard  of  honour.  In  the  name 
of  Heaven,  listen  to  me!  The  life  of  the  Consul 
hangs  by  a  thread!" 

Struck  by  the  musical  voice  and  by  the 
peculiarly  clear  enimciation  of  the  sylph- 
like mask,  Bonaparte  had  stopped  short.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  eye-holes  of  the  mask 


A  Snarer  of  Men  59 

of  the  white  domino.  The  light  of  two  remark- 
ably bright  young  eyes  met  his  gaze.  The 
little  ungloved  hands,  outstretched  as  if  in 
supplication,  held  a  handkerchief  of  priceless 
antique  lace,  and  a  coquettish  foot  tapped  the 
floor. 

Bonaparte,  speaking  in  his  natural  voice, 
said ,  laughing :  * '  You  are  not  armed ,  Madame  ?  * ' 

"Ah,  ah!"  answered  the  white  domino. 
"I  recognise  you.  General  Bonaparte!  I 
know  you  by  the  Corsican  accent.  No,  I  am 
not  armed.     Make  sure  of  it!" 

She  threw  back  her  white  domino  and 
revealed  a  marvellous  throat  and  pearl-white 
shoulders.  Bonaparte  passed  his  hand  over 
the  supple  sheathing  of  her  Empire  skirt. 

"No,  you  are  not  armed.  I  will  hear  what 
you  have  to  say. — Duroc,  mon  ami,  make  sure 
that  no  one  is  listening." 

Duroc  stood  in  the  door  way  like  a  sentry 
at  his  post,  Bonaparte,  his  hands  concealed 
by  his  domino,  sat  down  upon  a  divan  close 
to  the  masked  woman. 

"First  of  all,"  he  said  imperiously,  "who 
are  you?" 

"I  am  the  Countess  de  Montmoran." 

' '  Ah  ha ! "  ejaculated  Bonaparte.  ' '  A  hero- 
ine  of   the   Grand   Chouannerie!    And   how 


6o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

came  you  to  be  in  the  Republican  stronghold 
may  I  ask?" 

"The  Chouans  had  struck  my  name  from 
their  list.  The  Republicans  knew  it  and  they 
did  me  justice." 

"A  traitress!"  was  Bonaparte's  quick 
thought.  "But  what  is  that  to  me?"  She 
sat  with  hands  folded,  waiting. 

"Speak  frankly,"  he  said.  "What  was 
your  object  in  seeking  me?" 

"I  came  to  save  your  life." 

Bonaparte  answered  with  a  haughty  back- 
ward movement  of  his  head :  "  I  need  no  woman 
to  safeguard  my  person!" 

"You  will  be  wise  if  you  accept  the  disin- 
terested warning  of  a  friend,"  the  white 
domino  answered  firmly.  "You,  who  know 
little  of  the  danger  close  at  hand,  will  do  well 
if  you  accept  the  defence  offered  to  the  guar- 
dian of  France  by  one  who  has  sure  knowledge 
of  the  schemes  of  your  enemies." 

Bonaparte  frowned.    The  mask  continued: 

"Your  enemies  have  laid  plans;  they  cannot 
conquer  you;  they  have  determined  to  kill 
you." 

"I  do  not  need  you  to  tell  me  that;  I  know 
it." 

"You  do  not  know  everything,"  persisted 


A  Snarer  of  Men  6i 

the  Countess,  her  voice  vibrant  with  gather- 
ing anger.  "They  have  laid  a  new  plot. 
Powerful  agents  are  at  work,  right  here,  in 
Paris.  You  know  them:  Georges  Cadoudal, 
Pichegru,  Moreau " 

*' Moreaur*  interrupted  Bonaparte.  "Are 
you  sure  of  what  you  say?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it!  I  will  deliver  them  into 
your  hand:  Cadoudal,  Pichegru,  and  Moreau." 

"Moreaul'*  mused  Bonaparte.  "Impos- 
sible!" 

"  Moreau,''  declared  the  Coimtess,  "  Moreau 
the  pearl  of  integrity,  the  daimtless  Pichegru, 
and  the  rough  brute,  Cadoudal." 

"Rough  brute.  Countess?"  mocked  the 
Consul.  "  Methinks  I  have  heard  it  rumoured 
that  the  beautiful  Chouan  heroine  loved 
Cadoudal." 

"I  loved  him."  The  Countess  drooped  her 
head.  "Oh,  yes,  I  loved  him.  .  .  .  But  he  so 
offended  me  that  to  rest  even  for  one  hour, 
I  must  know  that  his  great  round  head  has 
rolled  in  the  sawdust!  I  hate  him!  Nothing 
but  his  blood  will  satisfy  me!" 

"Of  such  stuff  is  love  made!"  answered 
Napoleon.  "Truly,  Countess,  you  seem  to 
be  a  woman  whose  like  I  have  never  met." 

She  bent  toward  him  and  whispered  eagerly: 


62  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  will  give  you  all  your  enemies  for  that 
one  great  round  head." 

Her  perfumed  veils  brushed  his  mask.  He 
laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  and  murmured 
familiarly: 

"Tell  me  who  they  are!  Won't  you  trust 
me?    Tell  me  their  names." 

Annoyed  by  his  failure  to  grasp  the  impor- 
tance of  her  mission,  foiled  for  an  instant  by 
his  disregard  of  his  danger,  she  drew  back  and 
answered  stiffly: 

"You  are  losing  sight  of  the  main  issue, 
General  Consul;  I  am  here  at  the  risk  of  my 
own  life  to  warn  you  against  your  enemies." 

Her  strength  of  purpose  challenged  his  own 
strength.  He  hesitated,  made  a  movement  as 
if  to  take  possession  of  her  wilful  personality, 
and  after  a  pause  answered  lightly: 

"So  be  it,  Countess!  You  are  a  woman  of 
business.  I  will  give  you  my  serious  consid- 
eration. Tell  me  the  names  of  the  men  whom 
you  will  deliver  into  my  hands." 

"There  are  many,"  she  answered:  "Piche- 
gru,  Polignac,  Coster  de  Saint-Victor,  Picot, 
and  others.  They  are  in  Paris,  prowling  at 
dead  of  night,  liu-king  in  the  darkness,  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  kill  you." 

''So?''   answered   Bonaparte.     "And   Mo- 


A  Snarer  of  Men  63 

reau.  .  .  .  What  has  he  to  do  with  the 
Chouans?" 

"Nothing,  if  he  can  do  without  them. 
Moreau  is  an  ardent  Republican.  He  is 
working  for  the  Republic.  The  ChouanS 
need  him.  Cadoudal  and  Pichegru  coimt  on 
his  influence  in  the  Senate.  They  believe — 
and  possibly  they  have  reason  for  believing — 
that  Moreau  has  power  to  arouse  the  Senate, 
turn  the  Senators  against  you,  beat  you  down, 
and  paralyse  the  constitutional  power.  All 
that  he  is  expected  to  do  by  means  of  the 
poniard  they  did  not  manage  to  wield  the 
1 8th  Bnmiaire." 

Bonaparte  listened  with  head  upon  his 
breast. 

"Possibly,"  he  muttered,  "possibly!  .  .  . 
Pichigru,  unfortunate  creattire,  deep  in  debt, 
deep  in  the  degradation  of  his  treachery!  I 
can  believe  anything  where  he  is  concerned — 
but  Moreaul  the  conqueror  0}  Hohenlinden! 
Impossible!  ...  If  that  could  be,  the  groimd 
might  sink  under  my  feet.  The  army  loves 
Moreau;  he  is  a  power  in  the  Senate.  His  is 
the  only  martial  mind  at  the  disposal  of  the 
Senate.  The  others  are  subordinates;  Moreau 
could  take  my  place  to-morrow — ^and  he 
could  fill  it!" 


64  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Making  a  quick  movement  as  if  to  brush 
away  an  annoying  thought,  he  fell  into  a 
revery.  The  Countess  permitted  him  to 
dream.  For  some  time  he  sat  with  head 
bowed,  with  brows  drawn,  and  with  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  ground.  At  last,  coming  to 
a  consciousness  of  his  surroundings,  he  asked: 

"And  how  can  you,  a  woman,  deliver  those 
men  into  my  hands?" 

"That  is  my  secret.  General.  Give  me  full 
power  to  act,  and  place  at  my  disposal  a  few 
tried  and  sure  men,  and  I  will  prove  what  I 
can  do." 

* '  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"In  the  Chauss6e  d'Antin,  in  the  old  h6tel 
de  Fuiss6." 

"I  shall  send  a  man  to  your  house  to- 
morrow. You  may  trust  him  fully.  He  will 
give  you  the  pearl  grey  knot  of  ribbon  that 
you  see  on  Duroc's  shoulder.  Do  you  need 
money?" 

"No,  General.  I  need  nothing.  I  do  not 
w^ant  to  demean  my  vengeance  by  venal 
calculation.  I  shall  have  no  one  to  pay. 
But  I  may  need  to  see  you  suddenly,  at  any 
minute." 

"Keep  the  grey  ribbon.  When  you  present 
it,  you  will  be  received  instantly.     I  will  give 


A  Snarer  of  Men  65 

orders  to  my  guards,  Constant  and  Roustam; 
they  are  always  there.'' 

She  arose.  Bonaparte  covered  her  pretty 
figure  and  the  cloud-veiled  head  with  his 
piercing  gaze  and  asked  in  a  voice  that  be- 
trayed both  interest  and  curiosity: 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me?  Have 
you  no  favour  to  ask  of  the  Master  of  France?  " 

"At  present  nothing.  I  may  ask  a  favour 
of  the  Emperor.  Should  I  do  so,  my  request 
will  be  proportioned  to  the  services  rendered." 

"  If  you  do  what  you  have  promised  to  do," 
he  said  warmly,  "you  may  ask  for  anjrthing 
that  I  can  give." 

"I  shall  recall  that  promise  to  your  memory. 
Au  revoir,  General." 

She  passed  Duroc  and  vanished  among  the 
guests  in  the  brilliantly  lighted  ballroom. 

Duroc  approached  his  chief. 

"Not  worth  the  trouble,  was  it?"  he  asked. 

"Well  worth  it!"  said  Bonaparte.  "I 
am  not  sorry  that  I  came  here.  And  now, 
Duroc,  let  us  go  home  and  sleep,  if  to  sleep  be 
possible." 

The  Countess  de  Montmoran  lived  on  the 
ground  floor  of  the  ancient  princely  h6tel  de 
Fuiss6;  a  quiet  place,  far  from  the  noise  of  the 


66  The  Eagle's  Talon 

street,  a  chateau  hidden  among  great  trees, 
where  she  had  taken  refuge  when  she  arrived 
from  the  field  of  her  labours  in  Morbihan. 
With  the  remnant  of  her  fortune  she  had  bought 
fine  antique  furniture  and  installed  herself 
amidst  all  the  luxury  permitted  by  her  means. 
Having  made  all  things  ready  for  her  return 
to  society,  she  had  sought  her  old  friends 
among  the  nobility  and  renewed  her  social 
relations  with  the  world  of  pleasure-lovers. 
She  had  met  B  arras  and  from  the  outset  the 
two  adventurers  had  been  mutually  attracted. 
The  ex-director  had  appreciated  the  beauty, 
the  elegance,  and  the  distinction  of  the  keen 
political  intriguer,  and  the  Countess  had 
accepted  all  the  advantages  offered  by  the 
protection  of  a  party  leader.  B  arras  had 
opened  his  purse  to  the  young  woman  only 
to  find  that  she  possessed  an  appetite  much 
too  voracious  for  his  resources.  Her  contin- 
uous absorption  of  money  had  harassed  him, 
and  with  a  view  to  saving  some  small  portion 
of  his  fortime,  he  had  thrown  his  pretty  ward 
in  the  way  of  Gorgeret,  army  contractor,  and 
possessor  of  many  millions.  Gorgeret,  an 
ex-procurator  of  the  King,  was  known  for  his 
merciless  judgments.  By  his  orders  the  richest 
of  the  landowners  had  been  sent  to  the  scaffold 


A  Snarer  of  Men  67 

and  their  lands  had  been  confiscated.  An 
unscrupulous  tool,  notorious  for  his  moral 
laxity,  a  slave  of  the  purely  physical,  he  re- 
vealed his  character  in  his  face,  in  his  bearing, 
and  in  his  manners.  His  corpulent  body 
swayed  with  an  aggressive  air  upon  stiff,  short 
legs,  and  between  high  shoulders,  padded  with 
flesh  as  with  cushions,  his  bullet  head  rose 
red  and  threatening,  like  some  malignant 
physical  growth.  Gorgeret  had  been  the 
familiar  friend  of  Cambaceres;  the  two  glut- 
tons had  met  twice  a  week  to  gorge  themselves 
and  to  exchange  reflections  upon  abject 
subjects  of  personal  interest  to  themselves. 
To  one  of  their  feasts  Barras  had  conducted 
his  good  friend,  the  lovely  Countess.  The 
artful  and  alluring  woman  had  made  a  pro- 
found impression  upon  the  gross  mind  of  the 
unscrupulous  speculator. 

The  Countess  had  transferred  her  affections 
from  Barras  to  Gorgeret  under  clearly  defined 
and  immutable  conditions.  Drilled  by  Mont- 
moran,  Gorgeret  presented  himself  only  on 
permission  granted  in  response  to  a  respectfiil 
petition.  His  part  of  his  contract  covered 
unquestioning  obedience. 

He  had  never  come  in  contact  with  the 


68  The  Eagle's  Talon 

refined  nobility.  Awed  by  the  social  rank 
and  by  the  beauty  of  his  conquest,  he  lived 
for  nothing  but  to  surround  her  with  luxury 
and  to  anticipate  her  fancies.  The  vampire 
who  had  ordered  the  death  of  all  whose  lands 
he  had  coveted,  knelt  before  Montmoran  as  a 
slave.  His  ambition  was  to  make  her  his 
legal  wife.  Montmoran  was  justified  in  as- 
suring Bonaparte  that  she  needed  nothing. 
The  contractor  was  generous,  and  his  strong- 
box was  better  fvmiished  than  the  Consular 
treasury. 

At  noon  on  the  day  following  the  masked 
ball  at  the  h6tel  Regnault,  the  Consul's  agent 
presented  himself  at  the  h6tel  de  Fuisse,  sent 
in  the  knot  of  grey  ribbon,  and  was  conducted 
to  the  Countess's  boudoir.  The  man  was 
small,  red-haired,  and  red  of  face.  He  was  in 
the  undress  of  an  officer  of  the  municipal 
guards.  He  saluted,  searched  the  rooms  with 
a  keen  glance,  rapidly  scanned  the  face  of  his 
pretty  hostess,  and  pointing  to  the  ribbon  in 
her  hand,  said,  smiling: 

"You  are  to  keep  the  ribbon,  Madame. 
You  will  be  the  next  to  use  it." 

His  voice  was  calm  and  his  accent  strongly 
Italian. 

"My  cousin,  Bonaparte,  has  ordered  me  to 


A  Snarer  of  Men  69 

report  myself  under  your  orders.  I  am  at 
your  service.  I  am  ready  to  do  anything 
that  you  may  consider  necessary  to  the  safety 
of  the  Consul." 

"You  are ?"  asked  the  Coimtess. 

"I  am  Antonio  Checa,  a  Corsican.  My 
mother  was  a  cousin  of  the  family  of  Bona- 
parte. I  live  in  the  Tuileries,  with  the 
Consul.  Send  to  the  palace  if  you  need  me, 
day  or  night.  Let  the  messenger  say  to 
Constant  or  to  Roustam:  'Send  Checa!'  and  I 
shall  know  at  once." 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  Countess.  "I  shall 
remember." 

"And  now,"  asked  the  Corsican,  "what  can 
I  do?" 

"Be  at  Frascati  to-night,"  answered  Mont- 
moran.  "An  'Italian,'  so  styled,  will  be  at 
one  of  the  tables.  Play  with  him,  endeavour 
to  win  his  confidence,  and  learn  his  plans. 
When  you  have  talked  to  him,  report  to 
me. 

"Do  you  suspect  him,  Madame?" 

"I  do  not  'suspect,'  /  know.  But  I  must 
have  proofs,  and  I  cannot  get  them  for  myself. 
'Crescenti,'  as  he  is  called,  knows  me,  and  if 
he  sees  me  or  suspects  my  presence,  he  will 
vanish.     He  must  not  be  permitted  to  escape. 


70  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Through  him  we  can  reach  the  agents  of  the 
princes,  who,  as  I  believe,  are  in  Paris." 

"May  I  ask  who  they  are?" 

"They  are  Georges  Cadoudal  and  Pichegru." 

''Diavolof' 

"I  have  been  informed  that  the  Chouans 
with  others  are  plotting  to  overthrow  the 
Consular  Government  and  to  remove  Bona- 
parte." 

"What!  They  have  marked  him  for  re- 
moval?" 

"Yes,  Bonaparte  is  to  disappear" 

Checa  wrung  his  hands. 

"Birbantef  ..."  Struggling  to  master 
his  emotion,  he  spoke  in  a  low,  determined 
voice: 

"Madame,  count  on  me.  I  am  at  your 
service,  body  and  soul.  Bonaparte  is  my  god. 
Twenty  long  years  our  fathers  fought  side  by 
side  in  Corsica  against  Paoli.  I  would  die  for 
Bonaparte,  and  he  knows  it." 

"Follow  my  instructions,"  answered  the 
Countess,  "and  his  worst  enemies  shall  fall 
into  his  hands.  Go  now.  Obey  me  implicitly. 
Be  vigilant!" 

As  result  of  the  efforts  of  the  artful  Countess, 
Gorgeret  had  revealed  one  of  the  secrets  con- 
fided to  him  b}^  Cadoudal  and  Pichegru.     The 


A  Snarer  of  Men  71 

Countess  had  convinced  him  that  she  was 
devoted  to  the  princes.  With  the  artless 
gamility  of  a  child  she  prattled  to  the  gross 
parvenu  of  her  friends  the  nobles,  of  her 
work  in  Morbihan,  of  the  tossing  sea,  the  salt 
blue  mists,  and  of  the  pathetic  and  sordid 
lives  of  the  Iceland  fishermen.  And  all  that 
she  mingled  with  confessions  of  her  own  weak- 
nesses, her  unconquerable  longing  for  jewels, 
and  her  envy.  She  regaled  her  lover  with 
fervid  descriptions  of  the  costumes  worn  by 
the  indecent  beauties  of  the  Consular  Court, 
and  caressed  by  her  jewelled  hands,  looking 
into  her  sparkling  eyes,  the  besotted  financier 
forgot  his  prudence,  and  talked  to  her  of  loans 
made  by  him  to  the  princes  through  Cadoudal. 
Through  Fauche-Borel,  the  Royalists'  agent, 
Pichegru  had  asked  Gorgeret  to  lend  money 
to  cover  the  costs  of  an  enterprise  which  was 
expected  to  bring  unspeakable  honour  and 
inestimable  pecuniary  profit  to  the  man 
financing  the  enterprise. 

The  Countess  was  terrified  by  the  revela- 
tions of  her  corpiilent  pretender.  She  be- 
sought him  to  be  cautious.  She  warned  him 
of  the  danger  of  lending  assistance  to  the 
notorious  Pichegru. 

"Pichegru  is  a  gambler,"  she  assured  Gor- 


72  The  Eagle's  Talon 

geret.  "He  will  use  any  means  to  get  money. 
Think  a  little  of  me,  please,  Athanase!  What 
can  you  gain  by  dalliance  with  such  a  man? 
He  is  on  the  road  to  sure  ruin;  Bonaparte's 
spies  will  catch  him  at  his  work  and  if  you  are 
associated  with  him,  your  head  will  roll  with 
the  heads  of  Polignac  and  Coster  de  Saint- 
Victor.  Pichegru  is  not  working  either  for 
the  princes  or  for  the  'dictator,'  as  you  call 
him;  he  is  working  for  himself.  He  is  a  dan- 
gerous man." 

"You  do  not  know  him,"  the  contractor 
answered.  "He  is  astute;  he  sees  clear.  Let 
me  bring  him  when  I  come  again.  He  will 
tell  you  what  we  are  about  to  do." 

"Guard  yourself  well  from  insolence  of  that 
kind!"  ordered  the  terrified  woman.  "My 
salon  is  not  a  resort  for  intriguers.  I  forbid 
you  to  involve  me  in  your  political  schemes. 
If  you  could  prove  to  me  that  one  reliable 
Royalist  has  endorsed  your  project,  I  might 
listen  to  you  and  consent  to  give  you  my 
advice.  If  Georges  Cadoudal  had  given  his 
approval — ^but  Pichegru!  Your  stupidity  is 
nauseating!" 

The  temptation  to  tell  everything  was  strong ; 
but  Gorgeret  controlled  his  impulse,  wagged 
his  head,  and  answered  with  a  doubtful  smile: 


A  Snarer  of  Men  73 

"  Pichegru  is  not  my  only  dependent.  The 
enterprise  is  backed  by  men  of  State.  Moreau 
is  in  the  game,  playing  for  high  stakes.  I  am 
not  as  stupid  as  I  seem.  Pichegru  alone  I 
might  doubt,  but  Moreau  is  a  horse  of  another 
colour.  Moreau  has  got  his  wind ;  he  is  sotmd 
and  sure,  a  winner." 

''Moreau!''  mocked  the  Cotmtess.  "Is  it 
possible  that  you  can  fancy  for  one  moment 
that  Moreau  would  stoop  to  such  business? 
He  is  not  a  fool.  He  is  a  devoted  Republican ; 
he  knows  that  his  chances  wiU  be  small  when 
the  princes  return  to  France!" 

Pressing  his  lips  to  the  gleaming  whiteness 
of  her  shoulder,  the  parvenu  answered  in  an 
imctuous  whisper: 

"  The  princes  will  not  return  to  France. 
Bonaparte  will  disappear  and  Moreau,  hacked 
by  the  Republicans,  will  rule  France  as  dictator.'' 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Prove  to  me 
that  you  have  one  man  like  Cadoudal  among 
you  and  you  may  talk  to  me!" 

His  red  lips,  habitually  agape  when  in  repose, 
trembled,  but  his  face  was  impassible. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

One  week  later  he  spoke  again: 
"When  I  consulted  you  last,  my  wife,"  was 
his  tentative  greeting,  "you  promised  to  take 


74  The  Eagle's  Talon 

an  interest  in  my  business  if  I  cotild  show  you 
one  man  like  Cadoudal.  Cadoudal  is  one  of 
us;  he  is  here  in  Paris,  and  in  communication 
with  Pichegruf" 

"That,  I  cannot  believe!" 

Gorgeret  pressed  his  lips  to  her  cheek.  'Tt 
is  as  true  as  that  I  am  looking  into  the  eyes 
of  the  sweetest  of  women.  I  have  absolute 
proof  of  it.  They  came  to  me  this  morning 
and  asked  me  to  lend  them  mone}'-.  I  agreed 
to  let  them  have  10,000  livres  if  they  could 
give  me  unquestionable  guaranties.  Within 
three  hours  they  brought  me  a  receipt  signed 
for  the  princes  by  Georges  Cadoudal.  If 
Cadoudal  is  not  in  the  city,  he  is  so  near  it 
that  he  can  be  reached  at  once." 

"May  I  advise  you?"  asked  the  Cotmtess 
sweetly.  "You  know,  Athanase,  that  my 
sole  purpose  in  life  is  to  serve  you." 

"Speak,  beloved  wife!" 

"Destroy  that  paper;  do  not  keep,  even  for 
an  hour,  a  docimient  as  compromising  as 
Cadoudal's  signature!  Bonaparte's  police  are 
everywhere;  at  any  moment  they  may  search 
your  house.  If  they  find  that  paper,  you 
will  pay  for  your  folly  with  your  life.  I 
implore  you,  destroy  it." 

"  Ma  foil     I  cannot  destroy  it;   it  is  too 


I 


A  Snarer  of  Men  75 

valuable.  But  be  calm!  I  will  get  rid  of  it 
at  once.  To-night,  as  I  return  to  the  rue 
Saint-Honore,  I  will  send  it  by  registered  mail 
to  Marseilles.  I  have  friends  I  can  depend 
upon  in  Turkey;  they  will  keep  it  imtil  I  need 
it." 

Immediately  after  Gorgeret  made  his  re- 
velation concerning  Cadoudal,  de  Montmoran 
entered  into  communication  with  Bonaparte. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Bonaparte's  rival 

/^N  a  lovely  morning  in  September,  a 
^-^  cabriolet  crept  up  the  steep  road  leading 
to  Boissy  Saint-Leger  at  Gros  Bois.  On  the 
box  with  the  coachman  sat  a  man  in  a  great- 
coat, his  face  half  hidden  by  a  high  collar.  A 
round  hat  covered  his  iron  grey  head. 

The  cabriolet  stopped  before  a  door  in  the 
wall  of  the  park  of  Gros  Bois;  the  traveller 
said  to  the  coachman : 

"Drive  on,  and  wait  for  me  at  the  entrance 
of  the  village  of  Sucy." 

''Bien,  General." 

"No  titles,  my  fine  fellow!  Not  even  on  a 
deserted  highway.  It  is  not  known  that  I  am 
in  France." 

The  coachman  nodded,  cracked  his  whip, 
and  drove  away.  The  General  entered  the 
park  and  with  a  firm  and  rapid  step  followed 
a  path  leading  to  a  rustic  pavilion  standing  at 
the  meeting  place  of  six  broad  shrubbery- 
bordered  roads,  all  leading  to  the  picturesque 

76 


Bonaparte's  Rival  77 

mass  of  a  chateau  sleeping  in  the  sunlight  and 
mirrored  in  the  brown  waters  of  a  pond. 
Under  the  green  vault  of  the  trees  the  air  was 
exquisitely  soft.  Rabbits,  frightened  from 
their  breakfast  by  the  quick  step  of  the  stran- 
ger, hid  in  the  tall  grass  or  bounded  upon  the 
talus;  in  the  distance  a  cuckoo  sounded  its 
melancholy  note.  The  ground  exhaled  the 
strong,  suave  odour  of  the  woods,  and  here 
and  there  the  sun's  rays  filtered  through  the 
leafage. 

The  stranger  had  chosen  the  morning  as 
the  time  when  the  conqueror  of  Hohenlinden, 
commander-in-chief  of  the  French  Army  of  the 
Rhine,  would  be  at  home. 

"Happy  Moreau!"  he  said  to  himself. 
"What  more  could  life  offer  than  a  retreat 
like  this?  Had  such  a  resting  place  fallen 
to  my  lot,  how  gladly  would  I  have  sought 
refuge  from  the  torments  and  the  degradation 
of  a  life  of  intrigue!  Yes,  could  I  but  hide 
here,  the  world,  its  fame,  glory,  power,  and  all 
that  power  can  give  might  pass  me  by." 

He  stifled  a  sigh  and,  quickening  his  steps, 
reached  the  rose  garden  and  the  grounds  per- 
fumed by  blinking  pansies,  grass  pinks,  broad 
spreading  heliotrope,  and  jessamine.  As  he 
set  foot  upon  the  steps  leading  to  the  interior 


78  The  Eagle's  Talon 

of  the  rustic  building,  half  arbour,  half -chalet, 
the  door  opened,  and  Moreau,  smiling  and 
with  hand  outstretched,  came  out  to  welcome 
him. 

"Good-day,  Pichegru!  I  saw  you  as  you 
came  up  the  road.  Your  face  wore  a  look  of 
care.     What  were  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

Pichegru  answered  with  a  sorrowful  smile: 

"Of  nothing  important.  I  was  thinking 
only  this:  that  in  your  place,  just  after  Wat- 
tignies,  if  I  owned  this  splendid  resting  place, 
I  'd  care  little  who  governed  France.  I 
should  have  something  better  to  do  than 
think  of  Bonaparte." 

Moreau  laughed. 

"I  cannot  sink  down  in  my  nest  to  rest 
while  Bonaparte  is  conspiring  against  the 
liberty  of  France!  Have  you  heard  of  his 
latest  scheme?  He  is  dreaming  of  an  empire. 
And  what  is  worse,  the  army  chiefs  have  dis- 
cussed the  plan  in  solemn  conclave.  Soult, 
Berthier,  and  Bessieres  head  the  movement. 
The  question  is,  will  the  army  follow  them. 
I  do  not  think  so." 

The  two  men  had  entered  the  kiosk. 
Moreau  placed  a  broad-armed  bamboo 
rocking-chair  before  a  table,  opened  a  cup- 
board, took  from  it  a  finely  carved  nut-bowl, 


Bonaparte's  Rival  79 

containing  pistachio  nuts,  a  bordeaux  glass, 
a  napkin,  and  a  bottle  of  old  wine.  Having 
begged  the  conqueror  of  Holland  to  make 
himself  at  home,  he  drew  his  own  chair  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table.  Pichegru  had 
emerged  from  his  great-coat.  He  drew  his 
chair  close  to  the  table  and  turned  his  leonine 
face  to  the  open  window.  Moreau,  seated 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  resumed  his 
reflections : 

"Bonaparte  is  strong;  but  he  is  not  as  sure 
of  success  as  he  seems  to  be.  The  general 
staff  backs  him;  that  means  a  large  majority. 
But  my  soldiers,  the  old  warriors  of  Mayence 
and  of  Hohenlinden,  have  not  forgotten  me. 
Should  I  appear  at  their  head  and  proclaim 
the  Republic,  there  would  be  an  end  to  his 
aspiration  to  become  dictator  or  emperor!" 

"That  is  an  incontrovertible  fact,"  answered 
Pichegru.  "And,  on  the  other  hand,  here  is 
a  fact  to  be  listed  in  favour  of  ovir  enterprise: 
if  he  mounts  the  throne,  there  will  be  no  room 
in  France  for  the  chief  of  the  armies  of  Ger- 
many. Bonaparte  hates  Moreau,  and  his 
handsome  wife  hates  the  young  wife  of 
Moreau,  and  execrates  Moreau's  mother-in- 
law.  When  little  causes  are  in  conjunction 
with  great  causes,  the  results  are  deplorable. 


8o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Do  not  fancy  for  one  instant  that  the  people 
care  for  the  Republic.  The  people  are  think- 
ing of  their  own  interests.  The  democratic 
government  has  done  all  that  it  can  do  for 
France  for  the  present.  The  people  know  it. 
They  are  tired  of  equality.  They  crave  what 
they  are  used  to :  a  master.  You  cannot  over- 
throw the  Consul  by  means  of  the  Jacobins  or 
other  Philadelphians !  The  masses  have  not 
forgotten  the  absurdities  and  the  horrors  of 
the  Terror.  They  will  stand  by  Bonaparte 
through  fear  of  another  Revolution,  if  for  no 
other  reason!" 

"And  what,"  asked  Moreau,  "is  your  alter- 
native?" 

"The  monarchy." 

Moreau  stiffened.  A  shadow  swept  his 
face. 

"Absolute  monarchy  is  impossible!"  he 
said  coldly.  "All  that  was  drowned  by  the 
flood  of  royal  blood.  Paris  curses  the  Chouan- 
nerie  and  the  soldiers  of  Conde.  A  constitu- 
tional monarchy  might  be  possible.  The 
younger  branch,  the  Orleans  Bourbons,  the 
sons  of  Philippe's  son  .  .  .  that  might  be  a 
means,  if  it  could  be  compassed.  But  how 
could  they  skip  so  many  hereditary  decrees 
.  .  .  found  the  restoration  on  usurpation?" 


Bonaparte's  Rival  8i 

"Well,"  said  Pichegru,  "that  will  be  the 
only  means.  On  that  all  could  unite.  The 
liberals  could  acquire  a  charta;  guaranties 
for  the  national  property  could  be  arranged. 
But  the  man  for  the  place  must  be  a  soldier. 
At  a  time  like  this  no  man  is  of  any  impor- 
tance unless  he  has  military  prestige.  The 
army  knows  nothing  of  the  d'  Orleans.  We 
all  appreciate  facts.  We  know  that  Moreau 
is  the  man  of  the  hour,  the  man  to  save  France, 
the  man  to  avert  the  empire.  You  are  known 
to  be  Bonaparte's  natural  rival  and  his  only 
rival,  the  one  man  able  to  take  his  place  at 
the  head  of  France.  You  are  the  weight 
needed  to  turn  the  scales." 

Moreau  frowned. 

"Never,  no,  not  even  for  one  instant,  not 
even  in  my  secret  reveries,  have  I  thought  of 
myself  in  connection  with  the  government  of 
France!  Our  national  conditions  are  too 
grave  to  permit  any  man  who  loves  the  cotmtry 
to  indulge  in  dreams  of  personal  interest  or 
personal  ambition.  I  have  never  fallen  so 
low  as  to  act  from  egotism.  I  am  thinking 
of  nothing  but  France." 

"That  I  have  never  doubted,"  was  Piche- 
gru's  subtle  answer.  * '  And  in  view  of  our  com- 
mon aim :  to  save  France  from  the  fate  reserved 

6 


82  The  Eagle's  Talon 

jor  her  hy  Bonaparte,  I  urge  you  to  consider 
my  proposition.  As  long  as  Bonaparte  holds 
the  reins  of  State,  the  peace  of  France  will 
hang  by  a  thread.  He  thirsts  for  glory.  The 
thing  that  he  calls  glory  is  a  condition  main- 
tained by  war.  Violence  is  the  basis  of  his 
power.  He  will  involve  France  in  a  world- 
wide struggle,  and  appear  before  his  fellow- 
citizens  as  a  providential  saviour.  Listen 
to  me,  Moreau!  We  can  halt  him,  we  must 
fell  him  before  he  begins  his  murderous  work. 
There  is  only  one  means  of  mastering  him; 
Force.  We  must  either  kill  him  or  drive  him 
out  of  the  country." 

A  black  frown  drew  Moreau's  brows  to- 
gether.    He  spoke  in  a  harsh  resolute  voice : 

"Pichegru,  do  not  talk  to  me  of  political 
assassination!    I  will  not  listen  to  you!" 

"I  am  not  talking  of  assassination;  I  am 
talking  of  revolution.  It  must  come  soon  if 
we  would  save  France.  While  he  is  in  power, 
we  can  do  nothing.  When  the  imperial 
crown  is  on  his  head,  it  will  be  too  late!  We 
must  not  dally;  we  must  seize  his  power." 

Moreau's  voice  was  stem.  'T  am  neither 
a  child  nor  a  woman  to  be  blinded  by  the 
glamour  of  a  subterfuge.  Speak  out!  What 
do  you  mean?" 


Bonaparte's  Rival  83 

"I  do  not  contemplate  a  suppression  of 
the  Government,"  Pichegru  answered  easily. 
"My  idea  is  to  suppress  the  man  ...  to 
abduct  and  sequester  him.  We  can  seize 
him  and  give  him  into  the  hands  of  sure 
keepers.  .  .  .  They  would  do  him  no  harm. 
Reflect!  It  is  to  save  France.  We  will  have 
him  carried  to  the  nearest  port  and  sent  to 
Sinnamary  to  join  the  men  he  has  exiled. 
After  that  everything  will  be  easy.  Mean- 
while we  can  organise  a  new  system.  De- 
prived of  its  head,  the  military  clique  that 
governs  us  will  be  at  our  mercy.  You  are 
all  powerful  in  the  Senate.  Your  work  will 
tell." 

Moreau  was  silent.     Pichegru  continued : 

"/  will  drive  the  nail  with  my  own  hand.  I 
reserve  for  my  own  part  the  work  that  will  make 
us  masters  of  the  situation  J" 

Moreau  reflected  for  an  instant;  then  he 
said,  rising  as  if  to  close  the  interview: 

"I  must  have  time  to  think.  The  voice  of 
our  complaints  and  recriminations  still  echoes 
through  the  country,  and  you  come  to  me  with 
a  plan  of  new  and  desperate  action.  I  cannot 
give  you  my  answer  until  I  have  studied  the 
matter.  I  must  consult  my  friends.  I  will 
meet  you  in  Paris.     Then  I  will  speak." 


84  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Agreed,"  said  Pichegru.  "When  shall 
we  meet?" 

"You  will  hear  from  me  as  usual.  I  must 
consult  my  advisers.  I  shall  be  in  Paris 
before  evening.     You  will  be  there?" 

"At  once.     I  am  going  back  immediately." 

*'Au  revoir!** 

Pichegru  went  away  through  the  golden 
haze  of  the  silent  morning,  reached  the  wall 
of  the  park,  and  passed  through  the  little 
door  to  the  highway,  anxious,  far  from  assured 
by  Moreau's  promise  to  meet  him  in  Paris. 

Until  that  moment  Pichegru  had  kept 
secret  the  names  of  the  men  concerned  in  the 
plot  to  remove  the  Consul.  He  had  feared 
that  to  give  Moreau  a  clear  idea  of  the  truth 
wotild  be  to  tiim  the  determined  and  disin- 
terested patriot  from  all  contemplation  of  an 
alliance  with  the  enemies  of  Bonaparte.  But 
the  time  to  act  had  come,  the  decisive  step 
must  be  taken.  Moreau  must  be  told,  and 
Pichegru  had  decided  that  the  simplest  way 
of  making  his  revelation  would  be  to  force 
him  to  face  the  worst  at  once  by  bringing  him 
into  the  presence  of  Rividre,  Polignac,  and 
Cadoudal.  Forced  to  answer  '  *  Yes  "  or  "  No, ' ' 
Moreau  would  take  his  chances  on  a  restora- 
tion of  the  monarchy,  or  he  would  turn  his 


Bonaparte's  Rival  85 

back  on  the  Royalists.  Without  the  support 
of  Moreau's  authority,  the  chances  of  success 
would  be  lessened  by  more  than  half;  but  even 
that  would  be  better  than  uncertainty.  Means 
cotild  still  be  found  to  abduct  the  Consul. 
The  crucial  step  would  be  taken,  whether 
Moreau  were  willing  or  not.  There  would  be 
a  short  period  of  disorder  in  the  governmental 
business,  and  then  bold  men,  the  men  of  the 
hour,  would  seize  the  power  and  dominate 
the  cotmtry.  Pichegru  had  meant  from  the 
outset  to  conceal  his  own  part  in  the  matter, 
and  to  stand  aloof  from  compromising  action. 
He  knew  that  he  should  be  forced  to  appear 
as  Moreau's  colleague  when  the  time  came  to 
issue  the  call  to  the  army.  He  knew  that 
violence  must  precede  the  manifesto,  that  the 
groimd  must  be  broken  by  the  removal  of 
Bonaparte,  that  there  could  be  no  seizure  of 
governmental  power  before  Bonaparte  had 
been  made  to  disappear. 

Having  bade  adieu  to  Pichegru,  Moreau 
walked  slowly  across  the  lawn  to  the  chateau. 
On  that  morning  the  usually  powerful  charm 
of  his  lovely  cotmtry  home  made  no  impression 
upon  his  mind.  Burning  rancour  had  effaced 
his  gentle  gratitude  to  life.  He  thought  of  the 
humiliation  of  his  return  from  Hohenlinden, 


86  The  Eagle's  Talon 

when  Bonaparte  had  forestalled  his  glory. 
When  a  night's  march  from  Paris,  the  con- 
queror of  Hohenlinden  had  bivouacked  for  the 
last  time  before  his  return  to  the  city  of  his 
love.  Surrounded  by  his  sleeping  army,  he 
had  looked  up  to  the  stars  and  returned  thanks 
for  his  victory.  He  knew  the  people;  he  had 
seen  them  welcome  conquerors,  and  now  he 
was  the  conqueror,  and  he  and  no  other  was 
to  receive  their  welcome.  In  a  vision  he  saw 
it  all:  the  marching  army,  the  green  plain,  and 
the  tricolour  against  the  sky.  He  heard  the 
bugles,  the  long,  light  roll  of  the  little  drums, 
and  the  shout  of  the  mtdtitude:  ''Long  live 
Moreau,  conqueror  of  Hohenlinden!^'  He 
lived  it  all  in  anticipation,  lying  wide  awake, 
aglow  with  grateful  pride,  and  as  he  lay  there 
with  face  to  the  stars,  his  orderly  announced 
the  arrival  of  Berthier,  who  had  been  sent  to 
talk  to  him  before  he  reached  Paris.  .  .  . 
Berthier,  bearing  a  message  from  the  Consul! 
Bonaparte,  through  Berthier,  announced  that 
he,  Bonaparte,  would  review  the  returning 
army.  Bonaparte  was  to  receive  the  accla- 
mations of  Paris  ...  he  had  refused  to  let 
Moreau  review  his  own  men.  He  had  stripped 
Moreau  of  his  glory;  and  he  had  done  it,  not 
frankly  and  openly,  but  under  the  hypocritical 


Bonaparte's  Rival  87 

pretence  of  celebrating  the  retiim  of  the  con- 
queror .  .  .  under  pretence  of  doing  honour 
to  Moreau.  Skirting  the  pond  and  crossing 
the  close-cropped  lawns,  Moreau  remembered 
his  indignant  disappointment,  the  outburst  of 
his  wife's  childish  grief,  the  sententious  judg- 
ment of  his  mother-in-law,  and  the  rude 
answer  sent  to  Bonaparte  through  Berthier. 
Though  conscious  of  his  own  powerlessness, 
he,  Moreau,  had  repulsed  Berthier  with  all 
the  strength  of  his  indignation. 

"  Tell  Bonaparte,'^  he  had  said  to  Berthier, 
**that  as  I  did  not  attempt  to  review  the  Army  of 
Italy  when  he  returned  from  Marengo,  I  shall 
not  trouble  him  to  review  my  armyf'^ 

The  accentuated  animosity  of  the  two 
military  heads  of  France  had  produced  the 
revolution;  but  Moreau,  less  adroit  than  his 
rival,  had  accepted  the  tutelage  of  his  rival 
the  1 8th  Brumaire.  He  had  gone  still  further, 
and  pointed  out  Bonaparte  as  the  only  man 
capable  of  overthrowing  the  Directorate.  He 
was  the  one  to  blame;  with  his  own  hands  he 
had  pushed  Bonaparte  before  the  people  and 
designated  him  as  the  strong  spirit  fitted  by 
natiire  to  rule  the  nation. 

Slowly,  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  still  surface 
of  the  pond,  he  crossed  the  lawn  in  a  silence 


88  The  Eagle's  Talon 

broken  only  by  the  liquid  cry  of  a  solitary 
swan.  He  thought  of  his  young  wife.  How 
easy  it  would  have  been  to  have  raised  her  to 
the  highest  place  in  the  gift  of  the  people,  the 
place  occupied  by  Josephine,  the  false  wife, 
the  vain  mother  of  the  mature  children  of 
Beauhamais!  Yes,  he  might  have  risen  to 
power,  he  might  have  led  France  to  her  own 
best  good!  Yet  he  had  stood  aside  and  let 
the  Corsican  supersede  him.  Josephine  de- 
tested the  young  wife  of  the  leader  of  the  Army 
of  Germany  as  intensely  as  she  dreaded  the 
keen  sight  and  sarcastic  smile  of  the  elder 
woman  of  Moreau's  household.  The  per- 
petual exhibition  of  the  animosity  of  the 
Creole  wife  of  the  Consul,  and  the  Creole 
wife  and  mother-in-law  of  the  conqueror  of 
Hohenlinden,  increased  the  enmity  of  the  two 
strong  minds  well  fitted  to  work  together  for 
the  good  of  France. 

Through  a  door  opening  directly  above  the 
flower  beds  Moreau  entered  the  chateau.  His 
wife  and  her  mother  were  in  his  cabinet  await- 
ing his  coming.  Moreau,  an  excellent  hus- 
band and  devoted  son-in-law,  kept  nothing 
secret  from  the  two  women. 

"Well?"  asked  the  young  wife  with  fond 
interest. 


Bonaparte's  Rival  89 

"Well,"  answered  Moreau,  "I  finished  my 
despatches.  So  that  is  off  my  mind.  .  .  . 
Pichegru  has  been  here.  I  have  had  a  serious 
talk  with  him.  ...  I  do  not  trust  him.  He 
will  have  to  give  me  substantial  guaranties 
before  I  let  him  see  my  plans." 

"You  are  right,  mon  ami,*'  answered  his 
wife.  "He  has  everything  to  gain,  while  you 
can  do  nothing  but  lose  by  dealing  with  him. 
He  knows  well  that  it  rehabilitates  him  even 
to  be  seen  with  you  for  one  moment." 

"He  needs  rehabilitation,"  Moreau  an- 
swered, smiling  at  her  enthusiasm.  "He  is 
talked  about;  but  that  will  not  be  detrimental 
to  our  cause.  He  will  be  all  the  bolder  for 
that." 

"Do  not  compromise  yourself,"  said  the 
elder  woman.  "Be  careful!  I  am  always 
trembling  from  fear  that  the  Corsican  may 
set  a  trap  for  you." 

"He  may.  To  do  that  would  not  be  be- 
neath him.  But  if  he  should,  he  would  not 
get  Pichegru  to  come  to  me.  Bonaparte  has 
put  out  feelers.  His  agents  have  sounded  me 
more  than  once.  He  would  be  glad  enough 
if  he  could  get  me." 

"Ce/  you?''  repeated  Mme.  Moreau. 
"What    could    he    expect    from    you?    You 


90  The  Eagle's  Talon 

could  not  stoop  to  rank  with  Murat  and 
Lannes!  You  are  Bonaparte's  equal  in  every- 
way; ...  in  many  ways  his  superior." 

Moreau  kissed  the  pink  palms  of  her  little 
hands. 

"How  could  I  be  both  equal  and  superior?" 
he  laughed.  "Jesting  apart,  Bonaparte  is  a 
really  great  man;  we  all  know  that." 

"And  so  are  you,  Moreau,"  said  his  mother- 
in-law.  "You  are  a  really  great  man  and  he 
knows  it;  and  if  he  cannot  force  you  to  serve 
him,  he  will  do  his  best  to  get  rid  of  you." 

"I  shall  not  serve  him;  on  the  contrary,  I 
shall  struggle  with  him  for  the  freedom  of 
France." 

"You  mean  .  .  .  ?"  the  elder  woman 
asked  eagerly. 

"Just  this!  .  .  .  They  are  planning  to 
make  him  the  Emperor  of  France." 

*^  Emperor?  Bonaparte  Emperor?  That 
mangy  little  Corsican?  They  would  look 
well  on  the  throne — he  and  his  old  wife! 
Could  you  face  shame  like  that?  A  woman 
guilty  of  every  known  levity  ...  to  say 
nothing  of  the  unknown  ones!  a  woman  with 
teeth  so  black  that  she  fears  to  smile!  What 
a  carnival!  .  .  .  Will  you  stand  tamely  by 
and    face   a   situation    of  that   species,  you, 


Bonaparte's  Rival  91 

a  Republican,  .  .  .  you  who  have  led  one 
hundred  thousand  men  into  the  jaws  of 
death?  .  .  .  He  is  no  strategist,  he  makes  war 
in  comers  .  .  .  plays  hide-and-seek  with  the 
enemy!  .  .  .  Conqueror  of  Marengo  mdeedV 

"He  barely  escaped  on  that  occasion," 
chimed  in  the  young  wife.  "He  had  only 
fovir  battalions  there!" 

"Why  was  he  so  eager  to  make  peace?" 
clamoured  the  mother.  "Because  you  were 
at  the  gates  of  Vienna;  because  he  knew  that 
you  and  none  other  had  won  the  day!" 

"He  made  peace  to  prevent  you  from  enter- 
ing Austria  as  its  conqueror! "  cried  the  younger 
woman.     * '  He  has  never  acted  fairly  by  you ! ' ' 

"Moreau,"  cried  the  elder  woman,  "to  let 
that  man  movmt  the  throne  is  to  dishonour 
yoiu*  name!" 

"Oh,  these  deuced  women!"  groaned 
Moreau,  beside  himself.  "Dishonour  my 
name?  What  have  /  to  do  with  it?  Will  it 
be  my  fault !  Do  you  want  me  to  bestride  his 
road  and  brandish  my  arms  as  I  should  at  a 
nmaway  horse?  I  will  do  it  if  you  tell  me  to. 
I  will  stake  my  head  upon  the  chances!  But, 
/  warn  you:  if  I  fail  he  will  kill  me!  By  your 
ambition,  and  by  your  misconception  of  my 
duty,  you  will  force  me  to  my  doom!" 


5g2  The  Eagle's  Talon 

His  wife  cast  herself  upon  his  breast.  Her 
mother  said  in  a  subdued  voice: 

"No  one  is  more  eager  to  urge  prudence 
than  the  two  women  who  love  you,  son-in-law. 
But  it  galls  my  soul  to  think  of  the  Corsican 
on  the  throne." 

"He  or  another!  *'  exclaimed  Moreau. 
"What  difference  does  it  make  who  brings 
the  evil?  I  want  no  king!  My  aim  is  to 
serve  the  Republic." 

"Ah,  Moreau, ' '  sighed  the  elder  lady.  * '  You 
alone  are  noble  and  true!  You  only  are 
worthy  to  rule  the  State  and  to  lead  the 
army.  The  people  know  it.  Call  your 
men  together;  let  yotir  army  choose!  Be- 
tween Bonaparte,  who  thinks  of  nothing 
but  himself,  and  you,  who  care  for  noth- 
ing but  the  nation's  good,  they  cannot 
hesitate." 

"How  little  you  know  of  men,"  said  Moreau, 
with  a  pitying  smile.  "The  people  will  follow 
the  man  who  can  make  promises  and  keep 
them.  Soldiers,  the  heroes  of  the  battlefield, 
will  sell  their  souls  for  the  hiccoughs  of 
vanity." 

"Then  upon  whom  can  you  depend?" 

"Upon  myself." 

His  wife  gazed  upon  him  with  fond  pride. 


Bonaparte's  Rival  93 

Her  cheeks  flamed,  and  Moreau,  as  deep  in 
love  as  on  his  wedding  day,  kissed  the  eyes 
so  full  of  adoring  confidence  in  his  omni- 
potence. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  SUMMONS  FROM  THE  CONSUL 

THAT  same  evening  Pichegru,  powdered, 
perfumed,  and  disgtdsed  in  the  dress  of 
a  dandy,  boldly  entered  the  chief  resort  of  the 
aristocratic  world  of  Paris:  Frascati,  the 
only  gambling  establishment  in  the  city  to 
which  ladies  were  admitted.  The  pavilion 
stood  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  Richelieu  and 
the  boulevard.  At  Frascati  the  gamblers 
played  trente-et-quarante,  roulette,  and  the 
English  thimble-game  of  two  dice-boxes,  Creps 
or  krabb.  Balls  and  suppers  were  given  in 
the  perfectly  appointed  halls  of  the  pavilion, 
and  the  gardens  were  examples  of  the  fine  art 
of  the  landscape  gardening  of  the  Directorate. 
Pichegru,  who  had  halted,  seized  by  the 
faery  aspect  of  the  place,  approached  the 
house  and  looked  in  at  a  window.  Facing 
the  window  and  near  it,  with  back  turned  to 
the  great  lustre,  the  Marquis  de  Crescenti  sat 
at  faro.     In  response  to  the  insistent  mental 

94 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul      95 

call  of  the  dandy,  he  raised  his  eyes,  saw  the 
Republican  General  and  recognised  him,  and 
pocketing  his  gold,  saluted  the  company  and 
passed  out  into  the  garden.  In  silence  the 
two  men  retired  to  the  deep  shadow  of  a 
grove.  Pichegru,  soldierly  even  in  his  fop- 
pish dress,  and  Crescenti,  slender  and  boyish, 
his  delicately  outlined  face  wearing  a  look  of 
profound  melancholy,  stood  with  faces  turned 
toward  the  pavilion. 

"Eh,  Marquis,"  was  Pichegru's  greeting, 
"you  were  winning.  Fate  is  kind  to  you. 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore — ^like  all  women — 
she  loves  you;  and  talking  of  love,  how  is  the 
ravishingly  pretty  little  widow?" 

"My  luck.  General?"  Crescenti  said,  evad- 
ing the  personal  question;  "eh,  well,  we  take 
what  is  given  when  it  is  given.  Who  knows 
where  we  shall  be  to-morrow?" 

"We  shall  be  at  the  head  of  the  govern- 
ment, if  we  play  our  part  boldly." 

Crescenti  sighed:  "It  is  not  boldness  that 
we  lack." 

"Nor  endurance!"  said  Pichegru  bitterly. 
"But  enough  on  that  subject!  ...  I  came 
here  to  tell  you  that  I  must  see  Cadoudal.  I 
have  news  for  him." 

"If  it  means  action,  he  will  welcome  it. 


96  The  Eagle's  Talon 

He  is  sick  of  hiding  in  a  loft;  he  is  a  man  habi- 
tuated to  life  in  the  open  air." 

"When  does  he  come  out? "  asked  Pichegru. 

"At  dead  of  night,  disguised.  You  might 
go  to  his  lodgings;  but  he  is  cautious.  He 
must  not  compromise  the  people  who  are 
hiding  him,  nor  does  he  wish  to  give  Bona- 
parte the  pleasure  of  hanging  him.  Is  your 
business  urgent?" 

"It  is.     I  must  see  him  at  once." 

"I  will  arrange  a  meeting.  Be  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  Champs-Elys6es  to-morrow  night 
at  ten  o'clock." 

"I  shall  be  there.  Let  us  hope  that  some- 
thing will  come  of  the  meeting.  This  life  is  in- 
tolerable stagnation.  .  .  .  And  you,  Marquis, 
how  do  you  manage  to  consume  your  time?" 

"I  am  at  work  for  the  cause,  but  in  point  of 
fact,  I  do  nothing.  I  pass  my  evenings  at 
play." 

"Frascati  is  full  of  spies." 

"Yes,  but  Frascati,  like  Tivoli,  is  neutral 
ground  where  fighting  is  impossible.  How 
do  you  live,  General?  You,  too,  are  in  a 
perilous  position — or  has  Bonaparte  ceased 
to  interest  himself  in  your  movements?" 

Pichegru  twisted  the  ctirled  ends  of  his 
moustache. 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul      97 

"Bonaparte  has  enough  to  do  to  cover  his 
own  projects.  His  chief  object  is  to  pacify 
the  people.  If  Cadoudal  would  renounce  the 
princes  ...  if  he  could  be  persuaded  to 
consider  a  position  under  the  Consulate — to 
speak  right  out,  Marquis,  if  you  could  be  per- 
suaded to  forget  or  to  smother  yotir  Royalist 
scruples *' 

'  *  Say  no  more ! ' '  broke  in  Crescenti.  ' '  Bona- 
parte would  pass  the  sponge  over  a  great  deal. 
But  to  contemplate  a  thing  of  that  sort  is  not 
possible  to  a  man  of  principle.  If  the  impos- 
sible could  be  possible,  what  could  a  Chouan 
gain  by  playing  false  to  the  cause?  Bona- 
parte would  be  a  bad  master;  he  would  give 
the  good  positions  to  his  flatterers.  He  likes 
to  surround  himself  with  safe  people,  people 
mentally  inferior  to  him.  We  are  not  Jimots, 
or  Berthiers,  or  Durocs,  therefore  we  stand 
firm.  I  shall  do  my  duty  to  the  throne  and 
to  my  manhood." 

"You  will  gain  nothing  by  your  heroism. 
Should  our  scheme  fail,  Bonaparte  will  attain 
his  aim.  Even  Brittany  will  submit  to  the 
magnetic  power  of  his  will.  In  that  event 
there  can  be  but  one  end  to  the  Chouans* 
leaders:  death." 

A  pale  smile  swept  the  face  of  the  young 


98  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Chouan. — ' ' Eh,  hien! ' '  he  said .     "In  one  way 
or  in  another — what  matters  it?" 

Passing  out  of  the  garden,  the  dandy- 
strolled  down  the  boulevard.  Crescenti  en- 
tered the  house,  traversed  the  greater  salons, 
and  reached  a  small,  circular  room,  ceiled 
and  lined  with  Louis  XVI.  sculptured  wood. 
In  this  room,  furnished  with  divans  uphol- 
stered with  figured  silk,  three  women  and  two 
men  sat  at  a  round  table.  The  women — all 
remarkable  for  their  beauty  and  notable  for 
their  talent — ^were  the  brilliant  widow  Citizen 
Sinclair,  Mile.  Raucourt,  an  illustrious  actress, 
and  a  pale  girl  with  languishing  eyes. 

Deeply  engaged  in  conversation,  the  group 
took  no  note  of  the  presence  of  Crescenti. 
Laying  a  protecting  hand  on  the  young  girl's 
shoulder.  Mile.  Raucourt  said,  in  a  high- 
pitched,  melodious  voice: 

"Yes,  my  little  George  must  reign  alone  at 
the  Comedie-Frangaise.  Who  can  dispute  her 
supremacy?  Not  old  Duchesnois  with  her 
pug  nose  and  wheeze!  It  will  be  much  more 
agreeable  for  Talma  to  play  with  a  young 
and  pretty  girl  than  with  his  present  pursy 
partner,  a  creature  who  quacks  her  lines  like 
an    incapacitated    duck.     The    stage    needs 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul      99 

actors  who  can  give  their  acts  the  semblance 
of  life ;  and  another  detail  that  demands  study 
is  costume;  the  costume  ought  to  fit  the  lines. 
Greek  heroes  do  not  wear  Louis  XVI.  costimies 
and  powdered  wigs." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Sapi6ha.  "But  to  do 
what  you  suggest  one  must  be  perfect." 

Raucourt  rapped  the  table  with  the  ends  of 
her  fingers. 

"Talma  does  not  find  it  so  impossible?  He 
shaves  his  head  and  dons  a  toga  when  he  plays 
Nero;  and  his  voice  is  the  voice  of  a  man. 
Why,  may  I  ask,  must  an  actor  bleat  like  a 
lamb  and  bellow  like  a  bull?  Why  can  he  not 
talk  on  the  stage  as  he  talks  in  life?  Let  him 
awake  to  the  fact  that  his  art  is  to  imitate 
nature,  and  he  will  run  less  risk  of  making 
himself  ridiculous." 

"Certesf  lisped  Lucien  Bonaparte.  "My 
brother  the  Consul  has  emitted  the  same 
opinion." 

' '  Naturally, ' '  said  the  Prince.  ' '  Bonaparte 
is  a  realist;  he  has  no  imagination." 

"Imagination  has  nothing  to  do  with  it!" 
said  Raucourt.  "The  Consul  has  a  sense  of 
the  True  and  the  Beautiful.  He  applauded 
Georgette  furiously,  last  night." 

A  cloud  darkened  the  face  of  Sapi§ha.     Lu- 


100  The  Eagle's  Talon 

cien  shifted  his  position  and  nervously  plucked 
at  the  roots  of  his  finger-nails.  Crescenti  had 
taken  a  seat  near  the  group ;  he  profited  by  the 
silence  that  followed  Raucourt's  tactless  men- 
tion of  the  Consul's  conspicuous  manifesta- 
tion, to  join  in  the  conversation.  He  looked 
from  one  of  the  two  jealous  men  to  the  other, 
and  said,  with  a  mischievous  glance  at  Wem- 
mer,  and  with  a  pronounced  Italian  accent: 

"  Eh,  the  Signor  Consul !  He  is  so  distinctly 
of  Italian  origin  that  he  shows  it  even  in  his 
tastes!" 

The  young  widow  turned  with  a  fond  smile 
to  greet  her  lover.  "Ah,  Crescenti,"  she  said, 
**how  you  love  your  Signor  Consul!  You  are 
a  fanatic  on  that  subject;  you  are  glad  of  an 
excuse  for  defending  him." 

"In  point  of  fact,"  said  Lucien,  "we  are 
true  Italians.  There  was  a  Bonaparte  at  the 
court  of  the  Medici.  We  passed  over  to 
Corsica  with  the  Genoese.  But  from  that 
hour  we  have  been  Corsicans  and  sworn 
enemies  of  Paoli.  Our  mother  defended 
herself  against  his  partisans,  sword  in  hand." 

*'Soimds  like  a  romance,"  mused  Crescenti. 

"There  is  no  romance  about  it,"  declared 
Lucien  hotly.  "Italy  belongs  to  my  brother; 
he  has  proved  it.** 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul     loi 

"He  conquered  it,"  said  Sapi6ha  with  a  sour 
smile.  "But  that  is  no  proof  that  it  belongs 
to  him." 

The  little  actress  sat  like  a  curious  and 
indijfferent  young  cat,  between  her  two  howling 
pretenders.  Mile,  Raucourt  interposed  hur- 
riedly: "Conquered  it!  Indeed  yes!  and  by 
a  miracle  of  bold  courage.  And  he  will  go 
further;  he  will  rule  the  world.  A  seer  pre- 
dicted it.  Josephine  too  was  promised  some- 
thing of  the  kind." 

The  pale  girl  bit  her  lip. 

"I  too  am  to  reign,"  she  pouted.  "Mile. 
Lenormand  told  me  that  I  should  be  a 
queen." 

"You  are  a  queen,  my  charmer,"  said 
Sapi6ha.  "You  reign  in  our  hearts  and  on 
the  stage." 

"She  did  not  mean  that!"  was  the  pettish 
answer.  "She  was  speaking  of  effective, 
material  power.     /  am  to  he  a  queen! '^ 

"So  you  are,  ma  belle!'*  laughed  Lucien. 
"  My  brother  shall  conquer  a  kingdom  for  me 
and  I  will  marry  you." 

" Stupid  sot ! "  cried  the  girl.  "You  are  not 
free  to  marry!  You  know  it  and  all  Paris 
knows  it!" 

A    man   of    medium  height    in    chamois 


102  The  Eagle's  Talon 

breeches  and  a  coat  with  a  collar  so  high  that 
it  hid  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  approached 
the  table  and  bowed  before  the  pretty  widow. 
He  started  at  sight  of  Lucien  Bonaparte  and 
bowed  still  lower  to  hide  his  face. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  "I  must  speak  to  you 
instantly." 

Nodding  and  smiling  to  the  Marquis  de 
Crescenti,  Sinclair  followed  the  newcomer  into 
the  deep  embrasure  of  a  window. 

"The  sight  of  Lucien  Bonaparte  confused 
me,"  said  the  man  familiarly.  "Should  he 
recognise  me  it  would  go  ill  with  me." 

"No  fear!"  said  the  Countess.  "He  is 
thinking  of  something  very  different ;  his  love 


"My  errand  strikes  the  death-blow  to  his 
projects.     I  have  come  for  her." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Mme.  Sinclair,  "do 
you  mean  little  Wemmer?" 

"Yes,  Wemmer.  The  Consul  saw  her  on 
the  stage  last  night.  I  am  under  orders  to 
take  her  to  Saint-Cloud." 

"It  is  nearly  midnight." 

"The  hour  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  She 
must  come  with  me." 

"And  if  she  should  refuse?" 

He  smiled.     "She  will  not  refuse." 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul     103 

"It  is  possible.  She  has  just  told  us  that 
it  was  predicted  that  she  will  reign." 

"She  will  as  a  queen  of  the  left  hand. 
Make  haste,  citizen.  Persuade  your  pullet 
as  soon  as  possible.  My  carriage  is  on  the 
boulevard.  I  have  no  time  to  lose.  My 
orders  are  peremptory." 

When  ten  steps  from  the  door,  the  messen- 
ger tiimed  and  gliding  rapidly  over  the  mirror- 
like floor,  crossed  the  path  of  the  widow. 

"One  moment,  citizen,"  he  murmured. 
"Let  me  beg  of  you  to  come  with  us  to  Saint- 
Cloud.  Fournier  is  on  duty  to-night;  he  will 
be  inexpressibly  grateful  to  me  if  I  bring 
you." 

"I  thank  you,"  she  answered  with  a  haughty 
backward  movement  of  her  head.  "If  Wem- 
mer  will  consent  to  go  with  you,  I  will  conduct 
her  to  the  carriage." 

"Citizen,"  Crescenti  whispered,  bending 
toward  her  as  she  approached  the  table,  "I 
was  mad  through  jealousy !  One  moment  more 
and  I  should  have  rushed  to  the  attack." 

"  You  jealous!"  she  murmiired  fondly. 
"Do  not  be  ridiculous." 

"Then  you  do  love  me,"  he  whispered. 

' ' Then  I  do  love  you ! "  she  mocked.  "But 
just  this  once,  Angiolo,  I  must  go  home  alone. 


104  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Help  me  to  do  my  work;  do  not  follow  me." 
She  permitted  him  to  press  his  lips  to  her  little 
wrist;  then,  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
group,  she  said  to  Wemmer  : 

"I  am  going  home,  Georginette;  come  with 
me. 

Calm  and  indifferent.  Mile.  Wemmer  arose. 
Mile.  Raucoiirt  prepared  to  follow  her. 

"And  what  shall  we  do?"  asked  Prince 
Sapi^ha. 

"Go  to  the  table  with  Crescenti;  he  will 
play  late.  Emiilate  his  discretion.  To  at- 
tempt to  enforce  the  acceptance  of  an  un- 
welcome presence  is  indiscreet." 

"Men  stronger  than  I  am  or  ever  shall  be 
have  obeyed  the  bidding  of  this  frail  tyrant!" 
Lucien  said  with  a  grimace.  "I  too  obey. 
But  I  shall  not  play  to-night.  When  my  sim 
sets,  I  too  disappear." 

The  widow  turned  and  said  resolutely: 

"Citizen  Bonaparte,  do  not  attempt  to 
follow  Mile.  Wemmer; she  is  going  home  with 
me,  and  I  am  in  no  mood  for  company." 

The  three  young  women  passed  through 
the  corridor  to  the  vestiary  and  into  the 
street.  Fifty  feet  from  Frascati,  on  the 
boulevard,  Sinclair  said  to  the  girl : 

"Georgette,  the  man  who  called  me  away 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul     105 

from  you  just  now  brought  a  message  from  the 
Consul." 

The  girl  blushed,  drooped  her  eyes,  and 
asked : 

"What  does  he  wish?" 

"He  has  sent  for  you.  You  are  to  go  to 
the  palace  of  Saint- Cloud  at  once." 

"What,  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night?  Why 
should  I  go  to  Saint-Cloud  at  this  hour?" 

"Because  the  master  of  France  has  sent  for 
you.     His  carriage  is  waiting.     You  see  it!" 

"I  do  not  fancy  the  caprices  of  men!" 

"It  may  be  love." 

"  Love?     Cotild  he  love  me  so  suddenly?  " 

"Just  so  suddenly  the  lightning  strikes." 

Mile.  Raucotirt  had  listened  in  silence.  She 
put  her  arm  around  the  slim  waist  of  the  girl, 
who  was  little  more  than  a  child. 

"And  what  more  natural?"  she  asked. 
"  He  saw  you  last  night  in  your  pretty  costxime ; 
he  drank  in  your  beauty  with  full  lips;  and 
to-night  he  sends  for  you  that  he  may  tell  you 
how  dearly  he  loves  you.  It  is  not  his  habit 
to  defer  victory." 

"Ought  I  to  obey  him?" 

"It  is  his  right  to  order." 

"It  is  not  his  right  to  order  hearts,  either 
to  love  or  not  to  love!" 


io6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Why  cavil,  Georgetta?"  asked  Mme. 
Sinclair.  "Have  you  any  reason  for  refusing 
his  love?     Do  you  love  another? " 

"Thank  heaven,  no!  I  love  no  one;  but 
this  abrupt  summons  shocks  me.  I  find  it 
indelicate." 

"Go  to  Saint-Cloud  and  tell  him  so.  You 
are  not  bound  to  accept  his  love.  But  as  he 
is  the  master  of  France,  you  are  bound  to  be 
respectful.  He  is  the  Consul,  and  he  has 
issued  imperative  orders.  Go,  therefore,  to 
the  palace,  thank  him  for  his  admiration  if  it 
pleases  you  to  do  so.  And  if  it  pleases  you 
to  do  so,  refuse  his  love." 

"But  I  am  not  dressed." 

"There has  been  no  reference  to  a  formal 
or  dress  function.  The  Consul  has  sent  a 
trusted  emissary  with  a  very  comfortable 
carriage  to  take  you  to  Saint-Cloud.  The 
man  received  orders  to  return  to  the  palace 
immediately;  yet  he  is  waiting.  You  must 
decide  at  once.  Will  you  go  to  Saint-Cloud? 
Yes,  or  no?" 

"I  will  go,"  the  girl  answered.  "Mile. 
Lenormand  predicted  that  I  should  reign." 

With  a  haughty  gesture  she  crossed  the 
walk,  followed  by  the  two  women. 

The  man  waiting  beside  the  carriage  opened 


A  Summons  from  the  Consul     107 

the  door,  the  young  actress  entered,  and  the 
man  closed  the  door  and  mounted  to  the  seat 
beside  the  coachman. 

"Bonne  nuitf"  cried  Raucoiirt;  and  the 
carriage,  drawn  by  swift  horses,  disappeared 
in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFFAIRS   OF   STATE   AND  OF   THE   HEART 

\  XyHEN  Bonaparte  was  at  Saint-Cloud, 
»  »  the  estafettes  were  on  foot,  wheels  were 
rolling,  and  half  the  night  was  like  the  day; 
therefore  noise  did  not  disturb  the  sleeping 
chateau.  Bonaparte  sat  at  his  desk  late  into 
the  night.  Josephine  retired  to  her  apart- 
ments. The  Consul's  own  apartments  were 
impenetrable.  No  one  entered  their  outer 
corridor  without  special  permission.  On  one 
side  of  the  salon  the  aides-de-camp  barred 
the  main  door.  On  the  opposite  side  Rou- 
stam  guarded  the  inner  corridor. 

On  the  night  in  question,  late  in  the  evening, 
Caulaincourt,  who  had  returned  from  secret 
business  in  Russia,  visited  the  Consul  and 
made  his  report;  and  after  his  departure 
Bonaparte  locked  himself  into  his  cabinet  with 
Berthier  to  discuss  the  formation  of  an  army 
train.  Tormented  by  the  disorder  resulting 
in  panic  caused  by  the  civil  convoy  during  the 
campaign  in  Germany,  Bonaparte  had  deter- 

io8 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        109 

mined  to  take  no  more  civilians  into  the  field. 
But  the  formation  of  an  army  train  was  a 
formidable  undertaking,  demanding  thou- 
sands of  horses,  and  the  cavalry  had  drawn 
heavily  on  the  resources  of  the  horse-breeders. 
The  work  required  serious  study  and  calcula- 
tion. Berthier  sat  at  a  little  round  table, 
arranging  his  papers.     Bonaparte  said : 

"Something  must  be  done  to  stimulate  the 
breeders  to  action,  not  only  in  Normandy  but 
all  through  Merlerault.  We  must  offer  prizes 
for  fine  specimens.  One  of  our  best  cavalry 
colonels  must  go  to  Germany.  Send  Mont- 
bnm  or  Lasalle.  My  opinion  is  that  we 
should  choose  Mecklenburg  stallions.  The 
Norman  horse  is  fiery,  the  Mecklenburg  is 
soft  and  gentle;  but  he  gallops.  The  cross 
ought  to  give  a  good,  light  horse.  We  must 
have  the  best;  our  new  arm  must  be  worthy 
of  the  army.  Pick  yotu-  men  carefully.  The 
escorts  must  do  brilliant  work  in  battle." 
Berthier  sorted  and  stacked  his  papers: 
"Be  tranqtiil.  General,  I  shall  follow  your 
orders  to  the  letter." 

After  a  short  silence  Berthier  said : 
"  Did  you  notice.  Consul,  that  at  the  review 
yesterday  morning,  the  troops  cried :  Long  live 
the  Emperor!    Did  you  hear  them?" 


no  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"  I  heard  them.  Did  they  shout  spontane- 
ously or  were  they  prompted  by  their  officers?" 

"They  shouted  because  they  love  you. 
Their  chiefs  would  have  stopped  their  mouths 
had  they  foreseen  the  act.  Lannes  is  an  out- 
spoken Republican ;  Ney,  Soult,  Massena,  and 
Jourdan  aim  to  keep  free  from  politics." 

"Well,  Berthier,  the  feeling,  if  it  is  feeling, 
is  logical.  The  army  needs  a  sovereign,  and 
so  does  France.  It  must  have  a  chief,  either 
in  one  form  or  in  another.  It  has  had  one 
since  the  time  of  the  Franks.  Public  senti- 
ment dates  from  the  Franks.  The  French 
populace  is  a  Frankish  horde." 

He  paced  the  floor  with  head  bowed. 

"We  shall  have  to  come  to  it;  the  common 
interest  demands  it.  There  can  be  no  rest 
for  the  country  until  it  is  well  understood  that 
there  is  no  hope  for  the  rebels.  The  people's 
instinct  is  sure.  They  desire  an  emperor. 
Our  only  means  of  repose  is  to  create  one  for 
them.  But  when  I  think  of  the  chain  of 
centuries  .  .  .  from  Charlemagne!  It  is  a 
superhtmian  task." 

"Yes,"  said  Berthier,  "but  every  radical 
reform  or  amelioration  of  importance  demands 
painful  effort.  The  army  sees  clear;  the 
army  is  the  practical  mind  of  the  coimtry. 


P)»rT-MfJSaVEi"2*":  /''.'iiW^JS.'^?;' 


At  the  review  yesterday  morning,  the  troops  cried:  'Long  live 
the  Emperor!' " 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        iii 

Your  men  know  that  war  would  assure  the 
fame  of  France,  and  crown  your  authority." 

With  eyes  flaming,  Bonaparte  planted  him- 
self firmly  before  Berthier: 

'' I  do  not  want  war!  Let  England  disarm 
and  go  her  way.  AU  that  I  ask  is  to  be  allowed 
to  carry  on  my  work.  My  aim  is  to  build  up 
the  fortune  of  France  by  means  of  the  arts, 
commerce,  and  industry,  and  to  asstire  pro- 
gress by  refounding  the  administration,  and 
by  inscribing  the  reforms  accomplished  by  the 
Revolution  in  a  code  similar  to  Justinian's 
jurisprudence.  We  have  hard  work  before 
us.  Everything  in  France  must  be  either 
created  or  repaired — canals,  city  gates,  roads. 
We  must  have  sidewalks ;  the  men  and  women 
who  run  through  Paris  to  and  from  their  work 
must  have  as  dry  a  path  as  I  can  give  them. 
.  .  .  How  can  I  compass  it?  The  coach- 
entrances  make  alignment  difficult.  How- 
ever, I  shall  find  a  way.  We  must  have  good 
walks.  The  Louvre  is  in  a  bad  condition.  The 
slaughter-houses  must  be  overhauled.  .  .  . 
The  people  are  brave  and  faithful.  I  must  do 
my  duty  by  them.  All  that  is  the  work  of  a 
life  well  spent,  and  he  who  carries  it  out  to  per- 
fection will  leave  a  luminous  track  in  history." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Berthier.     "  The  work  is 


112  The  Eagle's  Talon 

sublime.  But  if  you  take  it  upon  yourself 
you  will  shoulder  Etirope:  a  horde  of  self- 
seekers,  stipended  by  the  gold  of  the  merchants 
of  Paris.     England  will  not  disarm^ 

Bonaparte's  blue  eyes  sparkled. 

"Then  let  her  take  the  consequences!  I 
will  crush  her  power  right  in  London;  I  will 
repeat  the  work  of  Hastings  plain.  .  .  .  But 
to  do  that  I  must  have  a  navy.  The  Royalists 
have  lost  the  fleet  to  France !  We  must  have 
ships  and  men;  and  it  is  easier  to  build  ships 
than  to  fi.nd  men  to  guide  them." 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the 
messenger  sent  to  Paris  to  conduct  Wemmer. 
The  man  entered  and  stood  at  attention  before 
the  conqueror. 

"In  which  room  is  she?"  asked  Bonaparte. 

"  She  is  in  the  little  room  opposite  the  garden 
of  the  orange  trees." 

Bonaparte  turned  to  Berthier. 

"Take  your  papers  away;  I  will  sign  them 
to-morrow." 

Preceded  by  Constant,  his  messenger  and 
guard,  the  Consul  passed  through  a  long  cor- 
ridor to  the  apartment  used  by  him  when  he 
worked  all  night  and  feared  to  disturb  Jose- 
phine. His  own  bed  was  in  an  apartment 
shared  by  his  wife. 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        113 

Constant  opened  a  door  and  Bonaparte  saw 
the  girl,  Wemmer,  seated  but  still  wearing  her 
hat  and  mantle.  Constant  closed  the  door 
and  returned  to  his  post  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor,  and  Bonaparte  asked,  smiling: 

"Why  have  you  not  put  aside  your  hat  and 
mantle?  I  hoped  to  see  you  in  Iphigenia's 
veil.  I  love  you  best  in  that.  Take  off  those 
heavy  things  at  once!" 

Well  pleased  by  the  auspicious  beginning  of 
her  interview,  the  girl  put  off  her  hat  and 
mantle,  and  sat  up  very  straight  and  prim, 
with  the  bright  light  of  the  many-candled 
chandelier  on  her  piquant  face  and  white, 
finely-moulded  shoulders. 

"That  is  better,"  Bonaparte  said  with  a 
caressing  glance. 

"Do  you  like  me?"  the  girl  asked. 

"If  I  did  not,  you  would  not  be  here." 

He  took  her  large  hand  in  his  own  nervous 
hand,  examined  it  with  a  disparaging  curl 
of  his  lip,  and  with  a  quick,  impatient  move- 
ment nipped  her  sldrt  between  his  thumb  and 
forefinger  and  revealed  her  large  foot. 

"You  have  impleasing  feet  and  hands,"  he 
said;  "had  your  inferior  members  been  like 
yotir  face  and  yotir  form  you  might  have 
rivalled  Diana."     Noting  the  change  in  her 


114  The  Eagle's  Talon 

expression .  "  Come !  Come ! "  he  said  author- 
itatively. "Do  not  pout!  it  is  one  o'clock. 
Let  us  sup." 

"I  am  not  hungry,"  she  answered,  blushing 
from  mortification,  "You  have  driven  away 
my  appetite." 

"Your  appetite  will  return!  Approach  the 
table,  instantly!"  he  ordered. 

Like  a  frightened  child  she  obeyed;  and 
without  concerning  himself  as  to  her  comfort, 
he  dipped  into  all  the  dishes,  put  on  his  own 
plate  a  small  quantity  of  everything  on 
the  table,  and  stirring  and  tasting  one  little 
heap  after  the  other,  ordered  his  guest  to 
help  herself.  He  took  no  notice  of  the  fact 
that,  distressed  in  her  vanity,  she  made  no 
attempt  to  partake  of  the  viands  provided  for 
the  feast.  Astonished  by  his  lack  of  gallantry, 
resentful  but  awe-struck,  she  stole  a  glance 
at  his  singularly  attractive  face.  He  had 
cast  off  his  official  mask  and  assumed  the 
appearance  of  young  Bonaparte,  the  lieuten- 
ant of  Auxonne.  With  proud  grace,  moved 
by  an  irresistible  impulse,  the  girl  arose  and 
putting  her  arms  around  the  head  of  the 
conqueror,  pressed  a  long,  grave  kiss  upon  his 
forehead,  and  laughing  like  a  child,  seated 
herself  beside  him. 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        115 

"You  order  me,  my  lord,  and  I  obey,"  she 
said  with  a  shadow  of  her  habitual  air  of 
independence.  Taking  no  notice  of  her  caress 
Bonaparte  busied  himself  with  his  supper. 
His  eyes  roved  from  his  plate  to  the  imcovered 
and  practically  untouched  dishes. 

"You  will  do  well  to  obey,"  he  said. 
"Continue  to  do  so  and  you  will  be  wise.  I 
shall  be  pleased  with  you  as  long  as  you  re- 
main simple  and  natural.  I  hate  prudes 
as  I  hate  coquettes  and  bold  women.  Be 
kind,  simple,  and  obedient.  Should  I  send 
for  you,  it  will  be  because  I  need  to  be  dis- 
tracted from  cares  of  State.  Bend  your 
inclinations  to  my  will  and  I  shall  be  satis- 
fied." He  attacked  the  wing  of  a  chicken, 
ate  rapidly,  and  then,  suddenly  changing 
his  tone,  asked: 

"What  has  become  of  your  ugly  enemy,  old 
Duchesnois?" 

"  Her  ugliness  did  not  seem  to  stand  in  your 
way." 

He  laughed.  "No,  I  liked  her  wit;  her 
voice  is  agreeable.  When  I  saw  her  on  the 
stage,  she  pleased  me.  I  saw  her  in  real  life 
denuded  of  her  talent,  and  her  face  reminded 
me  of  my  wife's  poodle." 

"Perhaps  you  will  say  the  same  of  me!" 


ii6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

He  turned  upon  her  and  with  a  meaning 
look  asked: 

"Are  you  expecting  anything  of  that  kind?  " 

"No,"  she  said  proudly.  "I  am  expecting 
something  very  different." 

"How  old  are  you,  my  little  goddess?" 

"I  am  seventeen  years  old." 

"And  though  so  young,  a  Sappho  for 
lovers!" 

"You  are  abominable!"  she  said  blushing. 

^^  Mais  non,  mats  non!  It  is  common  talk. 
You  have  lovers.  .  .  .  Sapi6haisoneof  them.' 

"I  could  be  a  princess  if  I  would.  I  could 
marry  Sapieha." 

"If  you  could  marry  my  brother  Lucien, 
you  would  have  nothing;  he  is  a  Republican; 
he  hates  titles;  but  you  cannot  marry  him;  he 
has  a  wife." 

"So  have  you,  General,  but  she  does  not 
seem  to  be  much  of  a  hindrance." 

"Little  Mask!  You  have  an  answer  for 
everything;  do  you  know  it?" 

''Ma  vie!  General  Bonaparte,  I  think  that 
I  know  nothing!  Doubtless  I  should  have 
known  more  had  I  refused  to  come  here  to- 
night. Do  not  talk  to  me  of  Lucien ;  I  do  not 
want  to  think  of  him.  I  have  trouble  enough 
at  the  theatre!" 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        117 

"I  will  tell  Talma  to  make  it  easy  for 
you." 

"That  will  not  prevent  your  wife's  courtiers 
from  hissing  me." 

As  if  the  mention  of  the  object  had  invoked 
its  presence,  two  light  taps  sounded  on  the 
door  and  a  voice  cried : 

"Bonaparte,  mon  ami,  Bonaparte!'* 

''Peste!''  growled  Bonaparte,  springing  from 
his  chair.  "There  she  is  at  present  running 
through  the  corridors!  What  is  Roustam 
doing,  I  should  like  to  know!  Stay  where  you 
are.  Georgette,  she  will  soon  be  gone." 

But  Josephine  was  not  eager  to  be  gone. 
She  called  again  and  with  more  insistence: 

"Bonaparte,  I  know  that  you  are  there; 
answer  instantly  or  I  will  enter,  despite  your 
guard!" 

"She  would  do  it!"  whispered  Bonaparte. 
"I  must  go  to  her." 

He  found  Roustam  motionless,  guarding 
the  closed  door. 

"Open  to  Mme.  Bonaparte,"  he  ordered. 
"Then  hasten  to  conduct  the  young  person 
to  the  carriage.  You  will  find  Constant 
waiting." 

Roustam  opened  the  door  and  Josephine, 
robed  for  the  night,  entered. 


ii8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Bonaparte!"  she  cried.  " Mon  ami!  I 
was  terrified;  I  had  a  dream;  I  saw  you  in  the 
hands  of  the  rebels  .  .  .  assassins  .  .  .  they 
were  beside  yotir  bed." 

He  looked  steadily  into  her  great,  appealing 
eyes,  and  under  his  frowning  brows  his  blue 
eyes  turned  black. 

"That  is  folly!"  he  sneered.  "You  have 
begun  again!  Once  more  I  am  forced  to  bear 
the  humiliation  of  your  jealousy.  Is  it  decent 
to  run  through  the  corridors  of  Saint-Cloud 
in  a  night-robe,  candle  in  hand,  knocking  at 
doors  and  calling  Bonaparte?  You  make  me 
ridiculous." 

As  was  her  wont,  she  fixed  her  great  dark 
eyes  upon  him  and  burst  into  tears.  Bona- 
parte could  not  look  upon  his  wife's  tearful 
eyes  unmoved.  Either  a  freak  of  his  nervous 
sensibility,  or  habit  formed  in  the  days  of  his 
adoring  love,  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
witness  the  real  or  assimied  grief  of  the  one 
woman  who  betrayed  him.  After  the  brutal 
revelation  following  his  return  from  Egypt, 
he  had  determined  to  break  all  connection 
with  her.  But  even  then,  in  the  hour  of  his 
awakening  to  her  treachery,  her  tear-stained 
face  and  her  sobs  had  moved  him  to  pardon 
her.    Though  he  thought  of  Wemmer  as  he 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        119 

thought  of  all  the  women  who  seized  his  fancy, 
he  clasped  the  little  hands  outstretched  in  real 
or  affected  supplication,  and  drawing  the 
weeping  woman  to  a  seat  beside  him, — "See 
how  foolish  you  are,"  he  murmured.  "You 
make  scenes  to  torment  me  when  my  brain 
is  reeling  under  the  weight  of  care.  I  cannot 
do  my  duty  to  France  and  at  the  same  time 
support  your  caprices.  I  cannot  plan  cam- 
paigns when  you  break  in  upon  my  strategic 
labours;  and  what  discipline  can  I  maintain 
in  the  army  when  you  force  my  orderlies  to 
disobey  orders?  Be  reasonable,  go  to  your 
bed,  and  let  me  do  my  work." 

"But,"  she  sobbed,  "you  were  not  at  work; 
you  were  talking  to  a  woman.  I  knew  it 
intuitively — as  I  always  know  it." 

"Josephine,"  he  said,  gently  stroking  her 
trembling  hands,  "you  are  doing  me  an  in- 
justice. I  worked  hard  all  the  evening,  then 
Caulaincourt  came  in;  before  he  finished  his 
report,  Berthier  came  to  talk  to  me  about  a 
new  military  arm.  Then  Constant  served  my 
supper." 

''Supper!'*  she  cried.  "You  were  at  sup- 
per!" 

"Certainly  I  was  at  supper.  When  I  work 
late,  I  must  be  stimulated." 


120  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Let  me  see  the  table.  Let  me  see  how 
many  were  to  assist  at  your  stimulation." 

"The  table  is  laid  for  two.  I  had  invited 
Duroc " 

She  cut  his  words: 

"You  had  not  invited  Duroc!  You  had 
invited  a  woman!" 

Her  shrill  cry  worried  his  sick  nerves. 

"Be  still,  Josephine!"  he  urged.  "If  I 
cared  to  sup  with  women,  I  could  meet  them 
in  Paris." 

"To  do  that  would  give  trouble.  You  like 
to  receive  them  in  your  home." 

Her  eyes  flashed.  Looking  wildly  in  his 
eyes,  "Do  not  stoop  to  falsehood!"  she 
cried.  "You  know  that  you  would  not  run 
risks;  you  are  too  careful  of  your  name.  The 
spies  follow  you.  Moreau  would  hear  it!"  she 
sobbed.  Bonaparte  put  his  arm  around  her 
heaving  shoulders.  "You  have  had  Grassini 
here!    Oh,  I  will  kill  that  woman!" 

"A  fine  example  for  Europe!"  Bonaparte 
said  with  bitter  emphasis.  "Excellent  mate- 
rial for  the  English  caricattirists.  I  must 
remind  you  that  you  are  no  longer  the  widow 
of  Beauhamais;  you  are  the  wife  of  the  First 
Consul  of  France.  They  are  talking  of  an 
empire.     Great   responsibilities   demand   de- 


Affairs  of  State  and  Heart        121 

corum."  She  sobbed  with  the  hollow  in- 
tonations of  the  voice  of  a  grieved  child. 
"Josephine,"  he  implored  with  lover-like  ar- 
dour, "be  good!  Go  to  your  apartment. 
I  will  finish  my  work  and  follow  you." 

"Let  me  see  the  table!"  she  persisted. 

Bonaparte  knew  that  Wemmer  had  escaped. 
Tenderly  conducting  his  wife,  "See,  then,  in- 
corrigible silly,"  he  said;  "prove  with  your 
own  eyes  that  what  your  husband  tells  you  is 
true." 

And  like  the  father  of  a  family  who  desires 
nothing  but  to  maintain  the  peace  of  the 
domestic  centre,  he  led  his  wife  into  the  little 
room. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DISGUISED  VISITOR 

GORGERET,  an  army  contractor  notori- 
ous for  speculations  successfully  carried 
on  at  the  expense  of  the  well-being  of  the 
army  during  the  campaign  of  Italy,  had 
devoted  a  part  of  the  fortime  made  from  re- 
victualling  the  troops  after  the  siege  of  Genoa 
to  the  acquisition  of  real  estate.  One  of  his 
investments  was  the  manorial  property  of  the 
ancient  family  of  de  Montbazon.  The  grounds 
comprised  a  park,  which  ran  from  the  faubourg 
Saint-Honor6  to  the  Champs-Elys6es,  and 
surrounded  the  palatial  residence  known  as 
the  h6tel  de  Montbazon:  splendid  setting  for 
the  bourgeois  vulgarity  of  the  trader  in  shoddy 
and  dried  meats.  The  palace  opened  on  two 
streets:  the  faubourg  Saint-Honor6  and  the 
Champs-Elys6es. 

In  the  superb  dwelling  where  the  beautiful 
favourite  of  the  Diike  de  Beaufort  had  aired 
her  graces,  surrounded  by  an  army  of  servitors, 
Gorgeret  lived  his  life  according  to  his  light, 

133 


The  Disguised  Visitor  123 

maintaining  his  solitary  state  by  aid  of  a 
scullion  and  a  cook,  a  body  servant,  and  a  man 
of  ignoble  birth  and  morose  character,  who 
ruled  the  empty  stables  formerly  tenanted 
by  blooded  horses,  and  in  rusty  brown  coat 
and  breeches,  his  head  but  half  covered  by  a 
small  hat  of  shiny  black  leather,  conducted 
his  master  to  and  from  his  business  in  the 
only  vehicle  of  the  establishment,  a  cab,  fit 
adjunct  to  its  leader,  a  sorrel  pacer.  The 
ancient  palace  de  Montbazon  had  been  re- 
stored by  Percier.  The  main  entrance  was  a 
porte-cochere  or  carriage  way.  The  door  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  house  opened  on  the 
Champs-Elys6es. 

Twice  a  week  the  contractor  received  his 
intimate  friends  at  dinner.  Various  intriguers 
had  laid  their  plans  in  the  banquet  hall  under 
the  auspices  of  Gorgeret;  there  Moreau  had 
met  Li6bert  and  senators  opposed  to  Bona- 
parte, and  in  an  upper  apartment  of  the  old 
palace,  Pichegru  had  hidden  from  the  police 
eight  days. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following 
Pichegru's  visit  to  Gros-Bois,  when  Gorgeret 
sat  at  his  table,  dictating  to  his  accountant 
and  comparing  invoices  covering  his  consign- 
ments to  the  commissariat  of    the  army  of 


124  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Paris,  the  maid -of -all -work  annotinced  a 
visitor. 

"What  does  he  want?**  snarled  Gorgeret. 

"I  do  not  know." 

"You  could  not  find  out,  could  you?  You 
had  to  break  in  upon  my  work!" 

"I  asked  him;  he  refused  to  tell  me.  He 
says  that  his  business  is  with  you.'* 

"Show  him  in." 

An  instant  later  the  girl,  rolling  her  bare  arms 
in  her  apron,  appeared,  followed  by  a  strap- 
ping, red-haired  man  in  the  dress  of  a  coach- 
man.    He  stood  before  Gorgeret,  hat  in  hand. 

"Well,  my  man,"  asked  Gorgeret,  "what  is 
your  business?" 

"  This  letter  will  tell  you.** 

Gorgeret  read  the  letter  and  turning  to  his 
employe  said,  "Put  away  your  work  and  go. 
Come  at  the  usual  hour  to-morrow." 

He  followed  the  clerk  to  the  door  and 
watched  him  pass  through  the  gate  and  mingle 
with  the  crowds  in  the  street.  Then  he  closed 
and  barred  the  door  and  returned  to  his 
visitor. 

"So  you  came  from  Pichegru?  Well,  how 
is  he,  and  where  is  he?" 

"He  is  right  here!"  the  man  answered  with 
an  outburst  of  laughter. 


The  Disguised  Visitor  125 

"General!  Is  it  possible!  You  are  un- 
recognisable." 

"I  have  proved  that.  I  have  faced  Real's 
police  all  over  the  city.  And  now,  old  fel- 
low, let  us  get  down  to  business.  I  shall 
be  frank  with  you.  I  know  that  you  are 
devoted  to  our  cause,  and  that  I  can  count 
on  you." 

"You  can,  General;  my  life,  my  cash — 
everything  that  I  have  is  at  your  service." 

"I  do  not  need  all  that.  I  shall  ask  for 
nothing  but  the  loan  of  your  house  for  one 
evening." 

"Make  use  of  it  as  you  see  fit." 

"I  am  arranging  a  meeting  between  people 
who  are  ready  to  act  for  the  overthrow  of 
Bonaparte;  a  coalition  bound  by  nothing  but 
their  hatred:  generals  who  do  not  like  to  be 
governed  by  their  former  comrade  and  equal, 
and  Royalists  who  are  enraged  by  his  usur- 
pation of  authority.  So  far  they  have  formed 
no  concrete  project;  each  one  has  thought  and 
acted  for  himself.  They  are  plotting.  I  hope 
to  organise  them.  My  idea  is  a  coup  d'etat. 
The  moment  to  bring  them  together  has  come. 
When  they  are  face  to  face,  they  will  be  forced 
to  avow  their  opinions;  they  will  come  to  an 
understanding.    On  one  point  they  are  in 


126  The  Eagle's  Talon 

harmony.  There  is  not  a  man  among  them 
who  does  not  desire  the  fall  of  Bonaparte." 

Gorgeret  paled. 

"Even  so?"  he  asked.  "They  can  seize 
Bonaparte,  or  kill  him.  That  would  be  easy! 
But  then  what?  Whom  would  they  set  up 
in  his  place?  A  Jacobin,  a  general,  or  a 
Chouan?" 

"You  have  put  your  finger  in  the  wound! 
That  is  just  what  they  must  decide  upon. 
But  I  am  not  going  to  bring  a  crowd  of  people 
to  this  house;  that  would  arouse  the  suspicions 
of  the  police.  There  will  be  less  that  half  a 
dozen.  I  shall  call  two  Chouan  partisans, — 
you  have  seen  them — and  two  Republicans, 
Moreau  and  Lajolais." 

"Moreau,"  answered  Gorgelet,  "is  a  fine 
man;  a  noble,  military  figure.     But  Lajolais 

Lajolais  is  a  schemer.      His  intrigues  are 

known." 

' '  Exactly !  That  is  what  we  need.  He  will 
intrigue  for  us,  as  intermediary  between  the 
princes  and  the  army.  Moreau  will  obtain 
the  co-operation  of  the  Senate.  It  is  probable 
that  it  would  not  be  possible  to  hope  for  any- 
thing but  that  from  him.  That  much  we  shall 
ask.  If  he  accedes  to  our  desires,  he  will  be 
rewarded  by  the  King  when  the  monarchy  is 


The  Disguised  Visitor  127 

restored.  His  position  will  be  so  exalted  that 
he  will  forget  all  else.  Now  Gorgeret,  this  is 
my  plan:  your  house  opens  on  two  different 
streets.  I  will  receive  Moreau  and  Lajolais 
at  the  door  on  the  faubourg  side ;  the  Royalists 
will  enter  from  the  Champs-Elys6es.  I  shall 
be  with  Moreau  and  Lajolais.  Order  your 
valet  to  let  us  in.  Three  men  may  well  make 
an  evening  call  tmnoticed.  It  is  a  common 
sight." 

Gorgeret  rubbed  his  hands  together  and 
said  with  an  unctuous  roll  of  his  under  lip : 

"I  myself  will  personally  open  the  door  to 
the  Royalists." 

'^Bien!  They  will  give  the  coimtersign: 
Biville-Londres.     Let  no  one  pass  without  it." 

"Bien,  BienI    I  shall  remember." 

"At  eight  o'clock  then,  to-morrow  night," 
said  the  General.  "  I  need  not  say  that  I  shall 
appreciate  your  hospitality.  When  the  King 
comes  back  to  his  own,  they  who  are  more 
powerful  than  Pichegru  will  find  ways  to 
thank  you." 

"Let  them  know  that  I  am  theirs,  body  and 
soul!" 

Pichegru  bowed.  "Enfinf"  he  said,  "it 
will  come.  We  are  all  waiting  anxiously  for 
the  prince.     One  of  these  days  he  will  cross  the 


128  The  Eagle's  Talon 

sea  and  place  himself  at  the  head  of  our  army. 
He  shall  know  your  zeal,  Gorgeret.  He  will 
reward  you.  But  not  one  word  of  this — 
not  even  to  your  mistress!" 

Gorgeret  reared  his  head,  his  face  glowed 
with  pride.     "Have  you  met  her?"  he  asked. 

Pichegru  laughed. 

"No,  but  I  doubt  not  that  you  have  one. 
Therefore  I  say:  Beware!  In  enterprises  like 
this,  women  are  fatal." 

Gorgeret  wagged  his  head.  "I  shall  keep 
my  mouth  shut." 

When  Pichegru  had  departed,  Gorgeret 
rettimed  to  his  cabinet.  Thoughts  of  the  re- 
sults of  failiire  beset  the  torpid  brain  of  the 
trafficker;  but  he  drove  away  his  fears. 
Glowing  with  the  hot  flush  of  his  greed,  lost 
in  mental  contemplation  that  never  went 
beyond  his  own  personal  interests,  the  old 
man  sat  before  his  table,  sunk  in  his  easy 
chair  with  legs  outstretched,  until  twilight 
turned  to  night  and  the  twittering  of  the  birds 
nested  in  the  trees  before  his  windows  aroused 
him  from  his  dreams.  Later  in  the  evening  he 
visited  the  Coimtess  and  evaded  all  her  ques- 
tions. He  impressed  her  with  the  idea  that 
the  Royalists,  baffled  in  their  hopes,  had  ceased 
to  scheme.     He  talked  of  the  possible  results 


The  Disguised  Visitor  129 

of  the  gratitude  of  the  princes ;  but  of  Pichegru, 
Moreau,  and  Lajolais  he  said  nothing.  His 
mind  seemed  to  be  fixed  upon  his  personal 
business.  When  taking  leave,  he  begged  to 
be  permitted  to  absent  himself  on  the  follow- 
ing evening.  He  explained  his  work:  invoices 
and  letters  covering  his  consignments  to  the 
army  of  Boulogne. 

After  his  departure  the  Countess  summoned 
a  fiacre  and  visited  Frascati.  The  Marquis 
de  Crescenti  was  at  his  post  at  the  green 
table,  and  the  calm  expression  of  his  sensitive 
face  deepened  the  impression  made  upon  her 
mind  by  the  conversation  of  Gorgeret. 

The  Marquis  de  Crescenti  was  cahn  because 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  progressing  intrigue. 
Cadoudal  could  not  tell  his  lieutenants  what 
he  did  not  know.  He  knew  nothing  of  Piche- 
gru's  schemes.  De  Polignac  and  de  Riviere 
were  as  ignorant  as  Cadoudal  of  the  meet- 
ing announced  in  the  name  of  Moreau.  The 
plan  of  the  rendezvous  in  the  h6tel  de  Mont- 
bazon  was  so  wholly  a  secret  that  the  keen 
and  watchful  police  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
work  in  passionate  progress  in  various  chan- 
nels. Fouch6,  the  only  man  capable  of  finding 
the  ends  of  the  threads  tangled  in  the  snarl 


130  The  Eagle's  Talon 

of  the  intrigue  against  the  Consul,  had  vague 
suspicions,  but  he  had  been  relieved  from  offi- 
cial duty,  and  he  had  no  right  to  interfere  with 
the  work  of  his  successor. 

Stimulated  by  Bonaparte,  whose  instincts 
warned  him  of  the  dangers  threatening  him. 
Real  had  sent  out  his  spies.  There  had  been 
trouble  in  Morbihan,  where  Cadoudal  had 
made  efforts  to  increase  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
zealous  partisans.  Bonaparte  had  detailed 
Savary  to  spy  out  the  land,  and  the  shrewd 
and  devoted  Colonel,  disguised  as  a  peasant, 
had  passed  eight  weeks  strolling  through  the 
coimtry.  He  had  returned  to  Paris  and  as- 
sured the  Constil  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear 
in  Morbihan.  But  despite  the  asstu-ances 
given  to  the  Consul,  Savary  was  ill  at  ease. 
A  thorough  search  had  convinced  him  that 
Cadoudal  was  not  in  Brittany  or  Normandy. 
He,  the  Chouan,  had  sailed  from  France. 
Savary's  watch  of  the  sea  had  been  incessant. 
Cadoudal  was  not  in  England;  he  must  be  in 
France.     But  where  had  he  landed? 

Fouche,  awake  to  all  possibilities,  believed 
that  Cadoudal  had  entered  Paris.  Although 
the  deposed  minister  had  been  relieved  of  his 
right  to  act,  his  anxiety  for  the  peace  of 
France  impelled  him  to  go  to  the  Tuileries 


The  Disguised  Visitor  131 

and  warn  Bonaparte  to  be  careful.  Fouch6 
suspected  the  Jacobins.  Bonaparte  sus- 
pected the  Royalists.  He  had  been  informed 
that  the  Duke  de  Bern  and  one  of  the  princes 
of  Cond6  had  planned  to  enter  France,  call 
out  the  army,  and  attempt  a  coup  d'etat;  and, 
exasperated,  he  had  declared  in  a  loud  voice 
that  the  first  Royalist  f oimd  on  French  ground 
should  be  shot.  He  had  taken  his  preliminary 
steps.  Savary,  with  the  consular  gendarmes ^ 
was  encamped  at  Biville.  Vigilant  and  patient, 
always  on  the  lookout  over  the  sea,  he  saw 
the  boat  known  to  the  people  of  the  ports  as 
"Wright's  craft,"  plying  daily  between  Dieppe 
and  Treport,  as  if  awaiting  an  opportunity  to 
land.  The  brig  was  a  familiar  sight ;  she  had 
ferried  the  Royalists  from  one  country  to  the 
other,  and  carried  the  English  carbines  used 
by  de  Frott6*s  men  to  kill  the  Blues  on 
the  roads  of  Normandy.  Savary,  searching  the 
waters  with  a  powerful  glass,  saw  that  the 
brig  made  no  attempt  to  land.  She  came  in 
sight  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  twilight 
retiuned  to  the  high  seas. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
fouche's  opportunity 

ONE  soft  afternoon,  when  the  wind,  blowing 
from  the  south,  filled  the  air  of  Paris 
with  the  odours  of  the  wine  market,  Bracon- 
neau,  drowsy  from  his  long  chase  of  the 
previous  night,  sat  at  a  table  in  the  oaf 6  de  la 
R^gence,  playing  chess  with  "  old  Dazincourt," 
the  Crispin  of  the  Com^die-Frangaise,  when 
Lerebourg  entered,  sat  down  at  a  table,  and 
called  for  a  bavaroise,  an  infusion  of  tea  with 
syrup,  valued  by  the  Parisians  as  a  mild 
stimulant.  Braconneau,  who  frequented  the 
cafe  disgtiised  as  a  bourgeois,  was  known  to 
the  chess  players,  the  waiters,  and  the  cashier 
as  "Lavemiere,"  a  man  who  lived  on  the 
interest  of  his  money.  After  twenty  minutes 
of  deep  study,  Lavemiere  protected  his  castle 
and  checkmated  his  adversary.  Making  an 
impatient  movement,  Dazincourt  rose  from 
the  table. 

"  Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  ends  my  trifling 

for  to-day,  Lavemiere!    If  a  man  lacks  pa- 

X32 


"  Braconneau,  drowsy  from  his  long  chase  of  the  previous  night, 

sat  at  a  table  in  the  Ca£6  de  la  R^gence,  playing 

chess  with  '  old  Dazincourt.'  " 


Fouch^'s  Opportunity  133 

tience,  let  him  come  tola  Regence  and  play- 
withy  ou!" 

"  Must  you  go  vSO  soon?  "  drawled  Lavemidre. 

"Yes,  we  rehearse  at  this  hour.  I  must  hold 
Talma  in  check.  Fancy  his  appearing  with 
bare  arms  in  a  toga!  The  man  is  shameful 
and  disgusting;  his  impulses  are  deleterious. 

"Yet    the    ancient    Romans "    began 

Braconneau. 

"Ancient  Rome  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
French  stage ! ' '  interrupted  Dazincourt .  ' '  We 
are  in  Paris  in  the  year  1804.  Such  excesses 
are  easily  explained  by  the  fact  that  France 
is  entering  an  epoch  of  decadence.  Our  stage, 
with  everything  about  us,  is  retrograding." 

Ten  minutes  later  Braconneau  took  his  hat 
and  cane,  rapped  the  table  with  a  coin  to  sum- 
mon the  waiter,  strolled  to  the  table  where 
Lerebotirg  sat,  and  greeting  the  milliner  and 
dressmaker  sat  down. 

"Well  Lerebourg,"  he  said,  "what  is  it?" 

"We  cannot  talk  here.  Come  into  the 
garden." 

In  the  garden  of  the  Palais-Royal,  where  the 
children,  guarded  by  gossiping  nurses,  were 
at  play,  the  spies  could  talk  unheard  and 
imobserved. 

"I  have  seen  Montmoran,"  said  Lerebourg. 


134  The  Eagle's  Talon 

' '  She  came  to  my  shop  to  tell  me  that  Cadoudal 
is  in  Paris." 

"Did  she  tell  you  about  his  lurking  place? " 

"No,  he  has  not  been  seen;  but  Coster  de 
Saint-Victor  plays  daily  at  Frascati,  and  as 
Coster  never  strays  far  from  Cadoudal,  by 
watching  Coster  we  can  lay  hands  on  Georges." 

Braconneau  squared  his  shoulders  and 
grinned.  "  Fouch6  will  rejoice.  Did  she  tell 
you  where  Coster  lodges?" 

"Yes.  He  is  living  with  a  girlish  widow. 
You  must  have  seen  her.     Virginie  Sinclair." 

Braconneau  shook  his  head.  "I  do  not  know 
her.     Is  she  one  of  the  girls?" 

"Far  from  it.  She  is  respectable  .  .  . 
lives  in  her  own  house." 

"Absolutely  impeccable,  eh?" 

"  Not  precisely.  She  is  maintained  in  afflu- 
ence by  Louvet,  the  millionaire  feather  mer- 
chant .  .  .  has  one  devoted  lover,  Colonel 
Foumier  of  the  consiilar  cavalry  of  the 
Coiirt  household." 

"And  Saint- Victor,  where  did  she  get  him?" 

"At  Frascati,  probably  .  .  .  she  loves  him; 
poor  fool!  her  devotion  is  pathetic." 

"And  Coster?" 

"He  is  very  skilftilly  disguised  as  an  Italian 
nobleman;  he  passes  for  the  Marquis  Angiolo 


Fouchd's  Opportunity  135 

de  Crescenti.  He  plays  nightly,  and  with 
insolent  luck,  at  Frascati." 

*^Tresbien!  And  Sinclair.  .  .  .  What  does 
she  do?" 

"She  too  passes  her  evenings  at  Frascati — 
to  be  near  him,  probably.  She  is  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  Raucourt,  the  high  stepping 
pacer  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise — a  woman  of 
all  the  vices! — and  with  the  little  beauty, 
George  Wemmer." 

' '  Wemmer ! ' '  ejaculated  Braconneau.  ' '  She 
is  the  firefly  that  lured  Lucien  Bonaparte  into 
the  marches!  Bonaparte  and  Wemmer,  Sin- 
clair and  Saint- Victor — By  heaven,  a  pretty 
plot!" 

"Yes,"  said  Lerebourg,  "but  I  doubt  if 
they  have  thought  of  it." 

Braconneau  said:  "I  must  make  a  note  of 
it;  they  might  reach  the  Consul  through 
Lucien." 

"  But,"  said  Lerebourg,  "I  did  not  come  here 
to  discuss  Lucien's  gallantries.  I  came  to  tell 
you  that  you  are  expected  to  shadow  Crescenti. 
Make  efforts  to  ingratiate  yourself.  Win  his 
confidence." 

"I  will  do  so.  It  will  not  be  easy.  The 
fellow  knows  me." 

"So  do  I  know  you;  but  I  recognise  you 


136  The  Eagle's  Talon 

through  your  disguises  only  by  the  voice  you 
have  habituated  me  to  consider  your  natural 
organ  of  speech." 

Braconneau  smiled.  "It  is  my  natural 
voice,  Lerebourg.  You  heard  it  when  I  lay 
sick  unto  death  in  la  Piti6.  However,  it  is 
true  that  I  have  a  few  talents  for  disguises, 
and  in  this  case  I  need  them;  for  Coster  de 
Saint- Victor  has  power  to  hide  his  identity 
from  his  own  mother." 

"You  will  find  him  at  Frascati.  Mme. 
Sinclair's  house  is  in  the  rue  Richelieu,  No.  12." 

"Does  she  know  who  he  is?" 

' '  Not  she !  She  believes  that  he  is  Crescenti, 
an  Italian  Marquis." 

"  Coster  de  Saint-Victor  is  brave  and  true," 
said  Braconneau.  "He  is  a  man.  I  would 
fight  for  him  rather  than  against  him.  But 
I  must  do  my  duty  to  Fouch6,  not  to  the  hand- 
some boy!    I  shall  report  at  once." 

"To  Real?" 

"ToR6al?  No,  toFouch6.  Fouch6  alone 
is  worthy  to  receive  reports;  he  only  is  fit  to 
head  our  service." 

Lerebourg's  face  darkened. 

"Your  Fouch6  is  a  devil!  He  will  go  to 
any  lengths  to  bring  men  to  justice." 

"Only  in  the  public  interest.     I  have  known 


Fouch^'s  Opportunity  137 

him  to  spare  his  personal  enemies.     At  times 
he  is  kind  and  generous." 


Deep  in  thought,  Braconneau  entered  the 
palatial  residence  of  the  deposed  Minister  of 
Police.  Fouch6,  who  coimted  on  returning  to 
the  ministry,  kept  open  house  and  lived 
surrounded  by  his  political  friends.  Intro- 
duced by  the  guard,  Braconneau  found  his 
chief  revising  his  private  accounts.  When 
Braconneau  entered,  he  put  aside  his  papers. 

"Citizen  Minister,"  Braconneau  began,  "I 
am  convinced  that  Cadoudal  is  in  Paris. 
Coster  de  Saint- Victor  is  here." 

"Can  you  lay  hands  on  him?" 

"Yes.     Shall  I  arrest  him?" 

"Do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Watch  him;  do 
not  lose  sight  of  him." 

"I  shall  take  the  scent  to-night." 

"  Not  a  word  to  R6al !  He  would  do  some- 
thing to  scare  our  birds." 

"I  am  not  working  for  citizen  R6al,"  the 
spy  said  drily.  "I  attend  strictly  to  my  own 
business,  and  my  business  is  yours." 

"I  know  it,  Braconneau,  I  shall  remember 
it." 

"  I  am  not  working  for  pay,  citizen  Minister," 


138  The  Eagle's  Talon 

said  Braconneau,  "I  work  for  you  because  I 
like  good  work.     Citizen  R6al  is  a  bungler." 

Fouch6  smiled.  To  test  his  chief's  knowl- 
edge of  current  events  and  to  lead  up  to 
the  plot  against  the  Consul,  Braconneau 
said: 

"The  girl  who  read  to  Mme.  Murat  has 
been  sent  away.  She  was  so  sure  of  her  power 
that  she  placed  her  brother  in  the  consular 
guard,  as  colonel.  Bonaparte  was  infuriated 
by  the  liberty.  He  had  begun  to  tire  of  her 
imperfections.  He  seized  her  temerity  as  a 
pretext,  pensioned,  and  banished  her.  So 
the  uncontrollable  anxieties  of  the  Consular 
incumbent  may  rest." 

"Not  in  this  life!"  said  Fouche.  "It  is  a 
case  of  relays;  the  little  star  of  the  Comedie, 
Iphigenia,  visited  Saint-Cloud  recently!" 

Braconneau  stood  before  his  chief  lost  in 
thought:  Wemmer,  Sinclair;  Saint- Victory 
Bonaparte.  "Marked  for  removal,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "If  he  does  not  know  it  now, 
...  he  may  learn  it  at  any  minute.  What 
more  natural  than  that  Wemmer  should  tell 
Sinclair  even  more  than  she  has  told  her,  and 
that  Sinclair  should  chatter  to  her  lover!" 

Braconneau  knew  that  Cadoudal  worked 
swiftly  and  boldly,  and  that,  given  information, 


Fouch^'s  Opportunity  139 

he  would  act.  Fouche  saw  that  the  mind  of 
his  pet  detective  was  at  work.  After  he  had 
given  Braconneau  time  to  think,  he  asked : 

"What  is  Moreau  doing?  It  is  my  impres- 
sion that  the  Jacobins  are  contemplating 
revolt.  They  hate  the  Consul.  Lucien  is  a 
sly,  two-faced  rascal;  he  is  lenient  to  his 
brother's  enemies — a  mean,  critical,  under- 
handed schemer!" 

Braconneau  was  silent.     Fouch6  continued : 

"He  thinks,  and  so  does  Joseph,  that  he  is 
more  capable  than  Bonaparte.  He  has  an 
idea  that  he  helped  his  brother  into  power, 
and  he  is  not  so  far  from  the  truth  as  to  that. 
Bonaparte  was  not  quite  equal  to  his  situation. 
If  Lucien  had  not  called  out  the  grenadiers, 
and  if  Murat  had  not  been  fired  with  the  idea 
that  he  ought  to  kill  every  one,  who  knows 
how  it  would  have  ended?" 

"Who  knows?"  said  Braconneau. 

"But,"  Fouche  added  with  a  thin  smile, 
"Lucien  Bonaparte  did  not  carry  out  the 
campaign  of  Italy!" 

"However  that  may  have  been,"  said  the 
detective,  "I  know  nothing  new  concerning 
Moreau.  That  he  is  discontented  every  one 
knows." 

"I  know  more  than  that,"   said  Fouch6. 


140  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  know  that  he  is  plotting  against  the 
Government." 

Braconneau  laughed. 

"Then  Bonaparte  is  between  two  fires:  on 
one  hand  the  Royalists;  on  the  other  hand  the 
Revolutionists!" 

"Both  sides  are  bent  on  causing  the  Consul 
to  disappear,"  said  Fouche.  "That  being  the 
case,  they  might  unite.  If  they  should  do 
that  and  if  I  could  catch  them  at  it,  my  return 
to  the  ministry  would  be  attended  by  glory." 

"Moreau  is  pectiliar,"  said  the  detective. 
*T  consider  it  far  from  probable  that  he  could 
lend  himself  to  any  scheme.  But  he  is  bitter 
against  Bonaparte,  and  hatred  is  a  hard  driver. 
I  must  look  at  the  matter." 

Fouche  took  a  package  of  banknotes  and 
rolls  of  louis  from  the  drawer  of  his  table. 
"Here,"  said  he,  "take  money.  You  cannot 
work  on  nothing.  You  may  have  to  hire 
important  agents.  Call  on  me  at  any  hour, 
day  or  night." 

He  nodded,  smiled,  and  turned  to  his  work. 

Braconneau  went  into  the  street,  where  the 
children  were  at  play  in  the  golden  light  of  the 
setting  sun.  On  the  benches  the  women  of 
the  people  sat  at  their  knitting  and  their 
mending.     He  passed  through  the  gardens, 


Fouch^'s  Opportunity  141 

his  mind  busy  with  Fouche's  suggestion:  If 
Moreau  could  overcome  his  scruples  ...  if 
the  Royalists  should  join  hands  on  the  dis- 
appearance proposition 

His  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  subject 
when  he  passed  through  the  rue  Richelieu  to 
the  boiilevard  and  entered  Frascati. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  CONSPIRATORS  GATHER 

WHILE  Savary  watched  the  sea,  Cadoudal 
landed  from  an  unsuspected  quarter, 
went  directly  to  Chaillot,  and  with  Picot 
entered  lodgings  in  a  little  house  rented  by  the 
Marquis  d'Hosier.  A  little  later  he  worked 
his  way  to  Paris,  and  took  rooms  in  an  apart- 
ment rented  by  a  carpenter,  named  Spain. 
This  last  hiding-place  commimicated  with  the 
neighbouring  property,  and  Cadoudal  could 
reach  a  street  apparently  inaccessible  from 
Spain's  house,  by  passing  over  a  fence  and 
through  a  carriage-house.  Cadoudal's  life  in 
Paris  was  almost  unbearable.  Even  at  dead 
of  night  he  was  forced  to  take  precautions  gal- 
ling to  a  man  habituated  to  the  freedom  of  long 
marches  and  to  life  on  the  wild  moors;  there- 
fore he  received  the  invitation  to  meet  Moreau 
with  joy.  He  saw  in  the  conference  hope  of 
ending  his  inaction. 

Saint- Victor  delivered  Pichegru's  message, 

and  Cadoudal  arrived  at  the  entrance  to  the 

142 


The  Conspirators  Gather         143 

Champs-Elyseesas  the  clocks  in  the  neighbour- 
hood struck  nine.  De  Rividre  and  de  Polignac 
were  equally  prompt.  Cadoudal,  who  lived 
with  his  two  constant  attendants,  Picot  and 
Taillard,  detailed  Picot  to  guard  his  lodgings, 
and  went  to  the  place  of  meeting,  followed  by 
Taillard.  Like  Taillard,  Cadoudal  carried 
two  double-barrelled  pistols  and  a  large 
dagger.  Bold  and  vigorous,  either  could 
easily  have  mastered  three  ordinary  men. 
The  night  was  dark.  Not  far  from  the  little 
door  in  the  wall,  as  they  passed  in  the  shadows, 
they  were  met  by  a  tall  man  wrapped  in  a 
long  black  mantle — Pichegru. 

"Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "Let 
us  enter  at  once." 

He  knocked  on  the  wall,  the  little  door 
opened,  and,  one  by  one,  they  stepped  over  the 
high  foot-bar  and  entered  a  large  park  where 
trees,  the  growth  of  centuries,  surrounded 
lawns  ornamented  with  beds  of  flowers  whose 
perfimie  pervaded  the  night  air.  The  man 
who  had  opened  the  door  preceded  them. 
Near  the  low-lying  sheets  of  dim  light, 
reverberated  by  the  glass  roofs  of  the  hot- 
houses, they  were  met  by  Gorgeret,  whose 
tongue,  thickened  by  the  intoxication  of 
unusual  importance,  clave  to  the  roof  of  his 


144  The  Eagle's  Talon 

mouth.  He  had  seated  Count  Armand  de 
Polignac,  General  Moreau,  and  the  Duke  de 
Riviere  in  the  salon,  and  hastened  with 
swelling  heart  to  greet  Cadoudal,  the  repre- 
sentative and  delegate  of  the  princes. 

Trembling  from  fear  of  the  possible  conse- 
quences of  his  complicity,  but  exulting  in  his 
attitude  as  political  intriguer,  he  threw  open 
the  door  of  his  salon  and  introduced  the 
Chouan  chief  and  his  orderly.  Corporal  Tail- 
lard,  a  man  known  to  the  armies  of  the  King 
by  his  picturesque  Chouan  name:  Brise-Bleu, 
"the  blue  gale  from  the  sea." 

"Gentlemen,"  announced  Gorgeret,  '^Lord 
Georges  Cadoudal. ^^ 

The  leader  of  the  dissenting  parties  of  the 
Republic  arose  and  faced  the  Chouan,  and 
Cadoudal,  who  respected  the  courage  and  the 
integrity  of  the  conqueror  of  Hohenlinden 
said: 

"I  am  thankful  that  I  have  to  deal  with  a 
man  and  not  with  that  skinned  cat  of  a 
Bonaparte." 

"Look  out!"  Moreau  answered.  "He  is  a 
cat  whose  claws  are  terrible!" 

"By  yotu-  help  we  shall  draw  them,"  said 
Cadoudal.  He  cast  a  swift  glance  around  the 
salon.     Pichegru  whispered  to  Gorgeret.     The 


The  Conspirators  Gather         145 

contractor  tiptoed  from  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  him,  and  the  enemies  of  Bona- 
parte were  alone.  As  if  before  his  camp-fire, 
Cadoudal  bestrode  a  chair. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "take  your  places!" 

De  Riviere,   standing,  leaned   against  the 

marble  mantel,  and  Taillard  and  de  Polignac 

seated  themselves  at  opposite  ends  of  a  long 

divan.    Pichegru  spoke: 

"We  have  met  this  evening,  drawn  together 
by  a  need  felt  by  all,  to  take  measures  of 
defence  against  damaging  projects  conceived 
by  Bonaparte;  measures  which  tend  to  nothing 
less  than  his  dictatorship.  The  word  Empire 
has  been  voiced.  If  we  do  not  act  at  once, 
France  will  awake  some  morning,  boimd, 
gagged,  and  in  the  chains  of  this  man  who 
even  now  is  called  "the  master  of  France." 
You  know  his  projects;  are  you  disposed  to 
let  him  act." 

"No!"  answered  Cadoudal.     ''No!'' 
"How  can  you  prevent  his  execution  of  his 
plans?" 

"We  shall  cause  him  to  disappear,"  de 
Rividre  said  softly. 

"How  can  that  be  done?" 

"General  Cadoudal  will  tell  you." 

At  the  words,  "General  Cadoudal,"  Moreau 


146  The  Eagle's  Talon 

frowned.  His  old  Republican  spirit,  and  his 
respect  for  the  military  hierarchy,  revolted  at 
the  enunciation  of  a  title  won  by  rebellion 
and  brigandage.  In  his  mind  he  saw  his 
army  of  Germany,  the  people  of  Mayence  who 
had  fired  upon  the  Chouans.  Before  him  sat 
Taillard,  who  needed  nothing  but  his  goat- 
skin coat  to  be  again  Brise-Bleu,  the  whirlwind 
of  destruction,  the  messenger  of  death.  His 
heart  beat  strong  with  indignant  wrath,  but 
hatred  of  Bonaparte  kept  him  silent. 

"Gentlemen,"  Cadoudal  said,  "if  the  propo- 
sitions that  I  made  at  different  times  had  been 
accepted,  Bonaparte  would  not  to-day  be 
usurping  the  nation's  power.  We  should 
have  been  delivered  from  him  three  years 
ago.  But  as  you,  Monsieur  de  Riviere,  re- 
member, I  had  to  deal  with  politicians;  men 
who  chose  the  lesser  means,  the  means  justified 
by  nothing  but  policy.  My  politicians  made 
plots;  they  conceived  plans  that  I  did  not 
approve.  I  felt  no  sympathy  for  the  poniard 
of  Ceracchi,  nor  for  the  infernal  machine  of 
poor  Saint-Regeant.  The  majority  favoured 
those  means,  and  as  a  result  France  looked  on 
hecatombs  of  victims  of  the  pitiless  wrath  of 
the  conqueror.  General  Pichegru  escaped 
from  his  pestilential  cell  in  Sinnamary  by  a 


"  As  Lf  before  his  camp  fire,  Cadoudal  bestrode  a  chair. 


The  Conspirators  Gather         147 

miracle.  The  massacre  of  the  boobies,  who 
died  from  the  explosion  in  the  rue  Saint- 
Nicaise,  was  brought  about  to  consolidate 
the  power  of  Bonaparte — ^to  make  Bona- 
parte appear  to  France  as  the  providential 
man  to  whom  the  nation  had  attached  her 
destinies.  Even  at  that  time  I  could  have 
saved  the  liberty  of  the  country  and  had  I 
carried  out  my  project,  France  would  have 
been  free." 

"What  was  your  project?"  asked  Moreau. 

"It  was  what  it  is  to-day;  and  to-day  I  am 
just  as  ready  to  execute  it.  My  soldiers  are 
waiting  for  my  call ;  they  are  twenty  tried  men, 
the  bravest  of  the  Chasseurs  of  the  King. 
They  will  be  led  by  Coster  de  Saint- Victor, 
by  Taillard,  and  by  me.  The  uniforms  of  the 
dragoons  are  ready,  the  horses  are  in  the  stable. 
At  Courbevoie,  in  a  place  belonging  to  one  of 
our  people,  the  troops  sleep  on  their  arms.  I 
shall  moimt  my  men,  place  myvSelf  at  their 
head,  and  wait  for  the  Consul  at  the  bridge  of 
Boulogne.  He  crosses  that  bridge  when  he 
comes  from  Saint -Cloud.  I  will  attack  his 
escort  in  open  daylight.  I  will  overturn  his 
carriage  and  blow  out  his  brains,  or  pass  my 
sabre  through  his  body,  and  all  will  be  over. 
It  will  be  an  ambush:  a  means  recognised  in 


148  The  Eagle's  Talon 

war.  I  shall  give  him  a  fair  fighting  chance. 
He  will  have  a  better  chance  for  life  than  I 
shall  have.  He  is  always  armed;  he  will  be 
surrounded  by  his  guard,  brave  soldiers;  and 
accompanied  by  his  aides-de-camp.  I  do  not 
fight  defenceless  men." 

His  declaration  was  followed  by  a  long 
silence.  His  words  seemed  to  have  terrified 
the  men  known  to  be  fearless.  Moreau  sat 
with  eyes  fixed  upon  a  flower  in  the  carpet. 
De  Rividre,  impassible,  stood  with  shoulder 
to  the  mantel-shelf,  watching  the  dark  face 
of  the  conqueror  of  Hohenlinden.  Moreau, 
held  at  bay  by  inexplicable  moral  anguish, 
struggled  to  control  his  emotion.  At  last, 
unable  to  maintain  his  silence,  he  spoke: 

"Call  it  what  you  will,  decorate  yotir  act 
with  the  most  heroic  of  incidents,  it  will  be 
murder.  I  am  not  an  assassin.  I  shall  not 
take  part  in  it." 

"Who  asked  you  to?"  retorted  Cadoudal. 
"Do  I  need  you  to  do  my  work?  No!  I  do 
it  with  my  own  hand!  Your  work  will  be  to 
wait.  You,  with  the  mass  of  the  people,  will 
hear  that  Bonaparte  is  dead ;  and  then  and  not 
imtil  then,  shall  I  need  you.  Let  us  under- 
stand each  other:  Bonaparte  will  be  dead,  but 
his  creattires  will  still  hold  the  power.    Junot, 


The  Conspirators  Gather         149 

in  command  of  Paris,  will  try  to  put  Joseph 
or  Lucien  in  the  Constilate. 

''Never!''  cried  Moreau.  "That  shall  not 
be!" 

"Good!  On  that  point  we  agree.  You  do 
not  want  a  Bonaparte.  How  shall  you  pre- 
vent his  assumption  of  his  brother's  place?  " 

"I  shall  mount  my  horse  and,  escorted  by 
my  generals  and  by  other  officers,  I  shall  go 
before  the  Senate.  In  the  Senate  I  shall  be 
backed  by  a  powerful  party,  and  I  shall  cause 
the  election  of  a  new  Consul." 

"And  probably  you  count  upon  receiving 
that  appointment,"  said  de  Rividre.  "So  be 
it,  General.  Now  then,  when  you  have 
attained  power,  what  will  your  attitude  be  to 
the  RoyaUst  party  and  to  the  King?" 

"The  King?"  asked  Moreau.  "Do  you 
refer  to  Monsieur  the  Count  de  Provence?" 

"I  refer  to  his  Majesty  King  Louis  XVIII, 
the  brother  and  the  legitimate  heir  of  Louis 
XVI." 

"He  is  in  Poland." 

"We  shall  send  for  him.  His  return  to 
France  will  follow  close  upon  the  death  of 
Bonaparte." 

"And  what  will  the  people  say?  How  will 
they  receive  him?"  asked  Moreau.     "All  the 


I50  The  Eagle's  Talon 

siiffering.s  and  all  the  mourning  of  the  Revolu- 
tion lie  between  the  departure  of  the  princes 
and  their  return." 

"We  have  thought  of  that,"  said  de  Polig- 
nac.  "Yes,  the  Revolution,  the  massacres, 
the  destruction  of  all  kinds,  the  blood  poured 
out  upon  the  scaffold,  the  insults  to  the  Church 
and  to  the  Christian  conscience — all  that  lies 
between  the  broken  links.  Bonaparte  is 
called  a  saviour  because  he  has  established 
social  order,  stopped  the  massacres,  and 
brought  back  the  priests.  But  do  not  deceive 
yoiirselves.  Bonaparte  is  still  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  Eiirope  has  a  horror  of  him  and  of 
the  pernicious  principles  that  he  represents. 
Europe  will  not  tolerate  him.  We  must 
either  suppress  him  or  prevent  him  from 
mounting  the  throne.  To  do  that  we  shall 
have  to  fight.  The  suppression  of  Bonaparte 
means  another  revolution,  and  a  rettim  of 
violence  and  anarchy.  We  must  choose  be- 
tween revolution  and  the  restoration  of 
royalty." 

"Royalty  is  impossible,"  said  Moreau. 
"Disseminated  and  worn  out  though  France 
is,  it  would  take  twenty  years  of  war  to  force 
royalty  upon  her!" 

Cadoudal  sprang  to  his  feet  furious,  ready 


The  Conspirators  Gather  151 

to  provoke  a  fatal  outburst.  De  Riviere's 
gesture  warned  him  not  to  go  too  far.  Con- 
trolling his  anger,  he  said  vehemently:  "You 
are  in  gross  error,  General!  The  spirit  of  the 
French  people  is  profoundly  monarchical. 
Do  not  fancy  for  one  moment  that  fifteen 
years  of  the  Jacobin  system  have  made 
France  forget  her  centuries  of  respect  for  her 
king.  A  few  thousand  scoundrels  have  seized 
the  public  power  and  used  it  to  terrorise 
the  people;  but  we  must  not  confound  the 
swagger  of  gallows-birds  with  public  opinion. 
Within  one  week's  time  after  the  restoration, 
the  mind  of  France  will  be  shaped  to  fit  the 
new  conditions,  and  the  old  institutions  will  be 
received  with  satisfaction.  The  people  were 
not  sorry  when  Robespierre  fell;  they  wept 
for  joy  when  the  heads  of  Saint- Just  and 
Couthon  rolled  in  the  sawdust.  The  day 
after  the  King  takes  his  place  upon  the  throne, 
the  people  will  breathe  free." 

"But  the  army?"  asked  Moreau. 

"The  King  will  overwhelm  the  army  with 
honours.  The  officers  will  rise  in  rank;  the 
pay  of  the  men  will  be  increased;  and  new  and 
comfortable  quarters  will  come  to  the  armies 
as  gifts  from  the  crown." 

"And  what  about  the  vast  legislative  and 


152  The  Eagle's  Talon 

financial  administrative  work  of  the  Conven- 
tion?" asked  Moreau.  "That  is  the  strong 
new  armour-plate  of  the  ship  of  State;  it 
represents  the  liberty  and  the  equality  of  the 
citizens  of  the  Republic." 

"And  who  tells  you,"  fumed  Cadoudal, 
"that  the  King  will  change  anything  of  all 
that?  Royalists  are  not  fools;  they  do  not 
imagine  that  they  can  weave  national  institu- 
tions in  a  loom!  They  will  accommodate 
their  personal  conceptions  to  present  institu- 
tions, and  strong  paternal  power  will  result 
from  the  combination  of  the  new  system 
modified  by  the  old.  You  cannot  suppose 
that  we  are  counting  on  you  to  further  a 
counter-revolution.  Had  any  form  of  revo- 
lution been  our  aim,  we  should  not  have 
needed  your  co-operation." 

De  Rividre  supplemented  Cadoudal's  long 
harangue : 

"We  called  on  you,  General  Moreau,  be- 
cause we  coimt  on  initiating  France  into  a  new 
and  salutary  order.  We  know  your  immuta- 
ble virtue  and  the  firmness  of  your  mind  too 
well  to  ask  you  to  betray  the  principles  of 
your  stainless  life,  or  to  deny  yotir  glorious 
past.  You  are  not  asked  to  renounce  your 
opinions.     You  will  serve  the  King  as  we  shall 


The  Conspirators  Gather         153 

serve  him:  willingly,  because  you  will  find  in 
him  not  a  tyrant,  but  one  Frenchman  more." 

To  this  artful  statement  Moreau  made  no 
answer.  He  rose,  deeply  agitated.  His  face 
wore  an  expression  of  intense  anxiety.  To  all 
appearances  he  had  forgotten  the  presence 
of  the  emissaries  of  the  King.  Cadoudal,  as 
much  troubled  by  his  Royalist  ardours  as 
Moreau  was  troubled  by  his  Republican 
dotibts,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  faced  the 
conqueror. 

"Come,  come,  General  Moreau!"  he  cried. 
"This  cannot  continue!  The  moment  to 
choose  your  road  has  come.  Will  you  march 
with  us?     Yes,  or  no?" 

"Never  with  you  for  the  King!"  declared 
the  Republican. 

"Then  you  came  here  in  your  own  interest! 
Your  wish  is  to  remove  the  Consul  for  the 
benefit  of  a  renowned  general  officer  of  the 
consular  army!"  said  the  Chouan  with 
peasant  irony.  "Do  not  hope  to  make  us 
your  dupes!  To  set  Moreau  upon  the  throne 
of  Bonaparte  would  be  small  sport  for  us!" 

"There  will  be  no  reason  for  another  meet- 
ing," Moreau  answered,  unmoved  by  the 
insult.  "Therefore,  I  can  do  no  more  than 
to  bid  you  good-night." 


154  The  Eagle's  Talon 

^'Eh,  mais!**  exploded  Cadoudal.  "Let  us 
understand  each  other  before  you  go!  This 
thing  must  not  be  talked  about!  If  you  hint 
one  word  of  what  has  passed  to-night,  you 
shall  not  escape  me;  I  will  drag  you  even  from 
the  heart  of  your  army!" 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  passed  over  the  face 
of  the  Republican.  And  as  if  speaking  to 
reassure  a  frightened  child,  he  said : 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  shall  not  reveal 
the  plans  exposed  in  this  place  to-night. 
Good -evening,  gentlemen." 

De  Polignac  and  De  Riviere  bowed.  Ri- 
viere left  his  place  by  the  mantel,  and  opening 
the  door,  addressed  Gorgeret,  who  had  re- 
mained on  guard  to  assure  the  conference  of 
secrecy. 

"My  dear  host,"  said  de  Rividre,  "please 
conduct  us." 

Gorgeret  with  arms  hanging  bowed  low. 

"This  way.  General,"  he  said  obsequiously. 
"I  myself  will  let  you  out." 

Riviere,  his  fine  head  bare,  the  elegance  of 
his  evening  dress  shown  by  the  silver  light  of 
the  lustres,  softly  shaded  for  the  circumstance, 
had  attended  the  General  to  the  door  of  the 
great  vestibule.  He  cast  a  last  questioning 
glance  at  the  resolute  face  of  the  Republican. 


The  Conspirators  Gather         155 

"General,"  he  said,  "we  shall  act  at  once. 
Remember  that  we  shall  welcome  you  if  you 
come,  even  after  we  have  attained  complete 
success'' 

"I  thank  you,"  Moreau  answered.  "My 
mind  is  immutable." 

They  stood  close  together.  Gorgeret,  with 
head  discreetly  turned,  was  at  the  door. 
Moreau  said: 

"I  must  tell  you  my  real  mind,  citizen 
Riviere:  Your  hopes  are  vain.  You  have  de- 
layed too  long.  The  eagle  has  soared  too  high. 
You  cannot  halt  his  flight.'' 

He  saluted  and,  preceded  by  Gorgeret, 
passed  into  the  park. 

In  the  salon  Riviere  foimd  Cadoudal  a  prey 
to  the  violence  of  his  temper. 

"The  sot!"  he  growled.  "Vaimting  his 
scruples!  The  Corsican  was  not  so  careful. 
We  shall  have  twice  the  work  without  him 
that  we  should  have  had  with  him.  But  give 
me  a  free  hand  and  I  can  manage  it." 

"You  must,  since  our  Aristides  refuses  to 
abandon  his  republic.  We  have  no  means  of 
turning  him,"  said  Polignac. 

"It  will  not  take  long,  eh,  Taillard?" 
Cadoudal  said,  turning  to  his  corporal.  Tail- 
lard did  not  speak,  but  a  grin  widened  his 


156  The  Eagle's  Talon 

mouth,  his  tanned  cheek  wrinkled,  his  hairy 
hands  gripped  his  knees,  and  from  between  the 
gaping  rows  of  his  strong  white  teeth  issued 
the  long,  whistling  breath  known  to  his 
Chouans  as  the  signal  to  attack. 

"  Ah,  ha ! "  cried  Cadoudal.  ' '  He  thinks  he 
is  on  the  moor!  Patience  Brise-Bleu!  they 
can  hear  as  well  on  the  road  of  Boulogne  as  on 
the  road  of  Vannes!" 

His  face  darkened.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said, 
"we  must  come  to  a  definite  imderstanding 
as  to  our  details." 

"As  we  are  to  march  en  famille,''  said  de 
Polignac,  "as  we  are  to  have  no  strangers 
with  us,  it  will  be  easier  and  simpler." 

"But,"  said  Pichegru,  "before  we  can  seize 
the  Consul  on  the  road,  he  must  be  on  the 
road.  He  must  be  coming  either  from  Saint- 
Cloud  or  from  Malmaison ;  at  the  present  time 
he  is  in  Paris.     He  arrived  this  morning." 

"He  is  always  travelling,"  said  Cadoudal. 
"He  may  be  on  the  road  to-morrow.  I  am 
told  that  he  contemplates  inspecting  Ney's 
troops.  I  know  his  movements.  I  have  a 
confederate  of  the  first  order  in  his  house. 
His  old  wife,  Josephine,  is  an  aristocratic 
Creole  whose  circle  of  intimates  is  large.  I 
hear  from  one  of  the  favoured  ones  daily. 


The  Conspirators  Gather         157 

I  know  the  movements  of  the  household.  One 
hour  after  the  Corsican  decides  upon  depar- 
ture I  shall  know  it,  and  I  shall  act  in  con- 
sequence." 

"Do  you  need  us?"  asked  Pichegru. 

**  In  no  way.  I  prefer  to  do  my  work  alone. 
My  men  are  used  to  me.  They  are  turbulent, 
but  they  can  act.  No  soldier  could  ask  for 
better  aids.  If  I  cannot  do  the  work  alone, 
I  shall  have  Taillard,  and  my  lion,  Coster  de 
Saint- Victor." 

"Coster  is  a  lion;  I  know  him,"  said  de 
Riviere.  "He  is  equal  to  three  common  men. 
You  two  could  hold  your  own  against  six 
others.  But  be  careful!  Bonaparte  may 
have  Rapp,  Lasalle,  and  Murat  with  him, 
strong  men!  An  affair  of  that  kind  is  always 
doubtful.  While  you  face  them,  their  guard 
may  fall  on  your  chasseurs.  Why  not  seize 
him  in  a  house?  I  beg  you  wait  two  days; 
let  me  arrange  it." 

' '  Another  delay ! ' '  gnmibled  Cadoudal.  ' '  I 
have  had  too  many  of  them.  Give  me  a  free 
hand  and  I  will  show  you." 

"Wait  two  days  longer." 

Cadoudal's  face  purpled.  "I  have  a  right 
to  know  what  this  means!"  he  said,  his  eyes 
glaring. 


158  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  think  that  I  have  a 
scheme  worthy  of  consideration.  Bonaparte 
has  taken  a  fancy  to  a  girl,  an  actress.  She 
went  to  Saint-Cloud  to  meet  him  and  their 
interview  was  interrupted  by  Josephine. 
Bonaparte  likes  the  girl,  and  owing  to  his 
wife's  jealousy,  he  cannot  meet  her  at  Saint- 
Cloud.  The  actress  lives  in  a  rented  house. 
He  cannot  visit  a  place  of  that  kind,  because 
it  is  necessary  to  his  magistral  prestige  to 
maintain  the  secret  of  his  gallantry.  He  is 
searching  for  a  suitable  meeting-place.  He 
will  decide  upon  something  soon.  In  case 
the  chosen  site  is  accessible  to  us — and  I  see 
no  reason  why  it  should  not  be — ^he  can  be 
removed  without  scandal.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?  Would  it  not  serve  our  political 
purposes  better  to  let  him  die  at  the  slippered 
feet  of  a  woman,  during  one  of  his  lover-like 
escapades,  than  to  give  his  death  the  character 
of  martyrdom?" 

The  question  was  received  in  deep  silence. 
Not  even  Cadoudal  dared  to  raise  his  voice 
against  it.  All  recognised  the  fact  that  it 
would  be  by  far  better  to  fall  upon  the  enemy 
diuing  one  of  his  disgraceful  adventures. 

''Eh J  bienr* said  Cadoudal,  "I  will  wait  two 
days." 


The  Conspirators  Gather         159 

"And  I,"  said  Polignac,  "shall  go  at  once  to 
Hartwell  and  prepare  the  Count  d'Artois." 

"Probably  he  will  return  with  you,"  said 
Cadoudal  with  bitter  irony. 

De  Riviere's  lip  curled.  De  Polignac  ap- 
proached the  mirror  and  arranged  a  disk  of 
court-plaster  to  bring  out  the  fresh  colour  of 
his  cheek. 

"The  dear  princes!"  he  lisped.  "Paris 
thrills  with  rumours  concerning  their  return; 
even  the  Constil  is  anxious." 

"He  may  wait  a  while!"  said  Cadoudal. 
"It  will  be  some  time  before  they  give  out 
walking-papers.  Our  masters  are  not  so  ready 
to  run  risks.  The  Stuarts  were  dipped  in 
different  dye." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  de  Polignac, 
gnawing  the  ends  of  his  moustache. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Pichegru.  "Had  it  not  been 
for  Monk " 

"Ah,  General,"  railed  de  Riviere,  "are  you 
awake!  Your  friend  Moreau  was  not  at  all 
disposed  to  appear  as  our  providence.  He 
would  not  consent  to  act  either  as  duke  or 
viceroy!" 

"Probably  he  was  safe  enough  in  refusing, 
for  as  far  as  the  'recompense  of  the  reward* 
is  concerned,  there  will  be  none.     If  I  am  not 


i6o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

in  error,  all  the  good  positions  have  been 
promised,"  said  Polignac. 

"Moreau,"  supplemented  Pichegru,  "never 
takes  the  initiative.  He  never  takes  the 
pltinge,  but  if  you  throw  him  in  the  water, 
he  swims.  He  never  makes  war,  but  when 
war  comes,  he  fights." 

"Let  him  go!"  exclaimed  Cadoudal. 
"When  we  need  his  friends,  we  can  get  them." 

He  arose,  shook  his  heavy  body,  and  pre- 
pared to  take  leave. 

"In  forty-eight  hours  then,  gentlemen,  if 
I  do  not  hear  from  you  I  shall  act.  Come, 
TaiUard!" 

Followed  by  Brise-Bleu  he  went  out  into 
the  night. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN  ARTFUL  INQUISITOR 

HALF-RECLINING  on  an  ottoman  in 
the  coquettishly-appointed  boudoir  of 
an  upper  suite  of  rooms  in  the  h6tel  de  Fuiss6, 
the  Coimtess  de  Montmoran,  pouting,  bored, 
and  querulous,  had  abandoned  her  hand  to 
her  fat  lover. 

Gorgeret  sat  on  a  gilded  campstool  close  to 
the  pretty  woman,  developing  his  tenderness 
with  ill-timed  fervour.  With  eyes  obstinately 
fixed  upon  the  frescoed  ceiling,  the  Countess 
avoided  his  ardent  gaze. 

"Really,  Countess,"  he  said  with  an  ugly 
movement  of  his  curly  head,  "you  do  not  hear 
a  word  I  say!" 

"On  the  contrary,"  she  answered,  "I  am 
so  imforttmate  as  to  hear  it  all.  Yoiu*  words 
pall  upon  my  ears,  because  I  have  heard  them 
a  thousand  times.  You  are  telling  me  that  I 
am  beautiful,  that  you  adore  me,  and  that 
your  chief  prayer  is  that  I  may  consent  to 
become  yoiu-  wife.    All  that  might  have  the 

I6l 


i62  The  Eagle's  Talon 

advantage  of  being  news  had  I  not  heard  it 
until  I  am  sick  of  it!  You  confided  your 
hopes  and  fears  to  me  long  ago.  As  for  your 
present  development,  it  is  an  oration  that  I 
am  forced  to  hear  whenever  you  set  foot  in  my 
hovise." 

"You  are  wicked!"  groaned  Gorgeret. 
"You  drive  me  to  despair!" 

"I  am  not  sorry  to  hear  it,"  was  the  grave 
answer.  "Your  despair  proves  that  you  are 
not  so  wholly  lost  in  your  ingratitude  that 
you  have  ceased  to  feel." 

"Ingratitude?  You  call  me  ungrateful? 
Oh,  why  do  you  talk  so  to  me?  "  he  asked,  his 
eyes  watering.  "I  live  for  you  only  ...  I 
think  of  you  all  day,  I  dream  of  you.  What 
would  I  not  do  could  I  persuade  you  to  bear 
my  name!" 

''Never!''  she  cried,  wrenching  her  hand 
from  his  grasp.  "Bear  your  name:  Gorgeret! 
Name  of  a  glutton,  a  man  who  nourishes  his 
life  by  base  exercise  of  his  palate?  Do  not 
dare  to  ask  me  to  be  yotir  wife  until  you  have 
rid  yourself  of  your  plebeian  name  and  ob- 
tained a  title.  Acquire  the  right  to  make  me 
a  countess  or  a  marchioness,  and  I  will  listen 
to  you." 

"That  is  impossible!    Our  infamous  equali- 


An  Artful  Inquisitor  163 

tarian  government  does  not  recognise  the 
ancient  titles ;  how  can  we  expect  them  to  be- 
stow new  titles?  Bonaparte  will  never  create 
nobles.  I  might  go  to  Austria  and  buy- 
parchments  there;  but  I  should  not  dare  to 
exhibit  them  in  France." 

"Then  bring  back  the  King!  What  are 
your  friends  thinking  of  to  go  so  slow?  " 

"Ah,"  said  Gorgeret  with  a  rnysterious  air. 
' '  They  are  not  as  sluggish  as  you  think  them ! ' ' 

"Ah,  ha!  You  are  conspiring!"  she  said, 
changing  her  irritability  for  an  air  of  kittenish 
coquetry.  "Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  fat 
Machiavelli." 

"What  can  I  say,  Coimtess?  I  have  no- 
thing to  tell." 

"Are  you  afraid  to  trust  me?" 

"No!  but  I  have  sworn  to  keep  the  secret." 

"There  are  no  secrets  from  me  in  this  head," 
she  said  gaily,  nestling  close  to  his  side.  "  Tell 
me  about  it.  Has  Georges  Cadoudal  decided 
to  fire  Paris?" 

"No,  he  considers  the  people  of  Paris  sub- 
jects of  King  Louis  XVIII." 

"But  he  has  decided  to  get  rid  of  their 
tyrant,  hein?'* 

Gorgeret  bowed  his  head  and  lowered  his 
eyes. 


i64  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Why  do  you  not  answer  me?  Probably 
they  want  to  abduct  him — ^is  that  it?" 

The  contractor  heaved  a  sigh. 

'* Athanase,''  whispered  the  Countess,  "if 
you  love  me,  answer  me!" 

"It  will  cost  me  my  head  if  they  know  it," 
groaned  Gorgeret.  "Those  people  are  ter- 
rible!" 

"Terrible  for  Bonaparte — ^not  terrible  for 
you  if  you  do  your  duty.  They  are  not 
terrible  for  me;  I  love  them." 

She  rolled  her  pretty  head  against  his 
arm. 

"Ah,  Athanase,"  she  said,  "you  are  hiding 
something  from  yoiir  little  wife.  Tell  me, 
wicked  one!  What  projects  have  you  under 
these  silken  curls?" 

"What  can  I  tell  you?"  asked  the  en- 
amoured man. 

"Do  not  keep  me  waiting;  answer  me." 

"But  I  have  sworn " 

She  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"I  '11  wager  one  of  my  pretty  rings  that 
they  are  plotting  against  Bonaparte!" 

He  did  not  answer. 

"They  will  abduct  him,  is  that  it?"  She 
bent  over  him  and  laying  her  head  upon  his 
breast,  looked  up  into  his  eyes.     "Ah,  but 


There  are  no  secrets  from  me  in  this  head,'  she  said  gaily, 
nestling  close  to  his  side." 


An  Artful  Inquisitor  165 

Athanase,"  she  murmured,  "to  abduct  the 
Consul  would  be  dangerous!  You  are  not 
involved  in  the  plot,  I  hope!" 

He  sighed. 

* '  Answer  me !"  ordered  the  Countess.  *'  An- 
swer me  instantly!" 

"It  will  cost  me  my  life  if  it  is  known," 
gasped  Gorgeret .     ' '  They  are  terrible !" 

"Terrible  for  Bonaparte,  not  terrible  for 
us!" 

"You  are  with  us  heart  and  soul,"  Gorgeret 
said  weakly. 

"I  am  a  Vend6enne.  Not  a  Chouan  in 
Brittany  but  knows  my  name!" 

"Ah,  why  may  I  not  tell  them  about  you? 
Why  have  you  forbidden  me  to  speak  your 
name?" 

"You  are  a  child  or  you  would  not  ask  me! 
I  am  as  weak  as  water  where  you  are  concerned, 
but  I  must  be  strong  enough  to  protect  you, 
since  you  will  not  protect  yourself.  We  are 
to  be  man  and  wife,  are  we  not?" 

"We  are,  most  beautiful  and  beloved  of 
women." 

"Well,  then,  is  it  not  better  that  they 
should  not  know  that  you  have  married  your 
mistress?" 

"Yes,  you  are  right;  you  are  always  right." 


i66  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"If  you  think  so,  confide  in  me.  You  are 
afraid  to  trust  me!" 

"How  can  you  say  such  things?" 

"If  it  is  not  true,  confide  in  me!" 

"Swear  that  you  will  not  tell!" 

"I  swear." 

Gorgeret  shuddered,  his  eyes  rolled,  and 
putting  his  mouth  to  her  ear,  he  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper:  "They  are  going  to  trap  him  in  my 
house.  He  loves  a  girl.  She  is  going  to  meet 
him  there,  and  they  will  seize  him." 

"Who  is  the  girl?" 

"They  did  not  tell  me." 

"They  treat  you  like  a  subaltern." 

"Could  you  know  who  is  coming  to  that 
meeting,  you  would  not  say  so." 

"Chouans?" 

"And  others." 

"People  of  the  Government?" 

"No,  enemies  of  the  Government.  Repub- 
licans." 

"Is  Moreau  one  of  them?" 

"I  did  not  say  so." 

"He  is,  I  know  it!  .  .  .  and  who  else?" 

"Pichegru." 

She  rolled  her  head  against  his  cheek. 

"And  who  else.  Royalists?" 

"Cadoudal,  the  Duke  de  Riviere,   Count 


An  Artful  Inquisitor  167 

Armand  de  Polignac,  and  a  fellow  called 
Brise-Bleu." 

"  Brise-Bleu ! "  said  the  Countess,  white  as 
death.   ' '  That  is  Taillard,  Cadoudal's  orderly. ' ' 

"*Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Gorgeret. 

" I  have  seen  him.     Go  on  with  your  story." 

Gorgeret  continued:  "If  we  are  successful 
in  our  schemes,  I  shall  have  a  title  to  lay  at 
these  little  feet. 

"Tut,  tut,"  she  said,  gazing  into  his  dull 
eyes.  "I  am  giving  you  too  much  liberty. 
Do  not  think  of  the  future;  talk  to  me  of  the 
present;  speak  to  me  about  your  conference. 
You  were  telling  me  how  they  are  to  enter  by 
one  door  and  escape  by  the  other." 

"Did  I  say  that?" 

"Yes,  so  you  said.  And  when  will  your 
trap  be  set?" 

"We  do  not  know.  Bonaparte  is  in  the 
palace  of  Saint-Cloud;  we  cannot  work  until 
he  comes  to  Paris." 

The  Countess  escaped  from  his  arms.  Sink- 
ing into  her  deep-eared  chair,  she  sat  with 
buskined  feet  crossed,  chin  in  hand.  Deep 
set  in  their  dark  hollows,  her  eyes  gleamed  with 
the  fire  of  hatred.  Her  lips  drew  back  from 
her  sharp  white  teeth,  and  her  delicate  face 
assumed  a  look  of  pitiless  cruelty.     Gorgeret 


i68  The  Eagle's  Talon 

gazed  with  terror  at  the  strange  creature,  who 
from  a  caressing  woman  had  turned  to  a 
gorgon. 

"What  is  it?"  he  stammered.  "What  are 
you  thinking  of?" 

"Of  my  past.  Your  story  has  awakened 
memories." 

Suddenly  changing  her  expression,  she 
seemed  to  forget  the  information  given  by 
him  in  his  weakness.  She  plied  him  with 
questions.  And  in  his  surprise  at  her  strange 
interest  in  his  military  business,  he  forgot 
that  he  had  betrayed  his  secret. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  PLOT  AND  ITS  VICTIMS 

/^N  the  day  following  Gorgeret's  confession, 
^^  Bonaparte,  attended  by  his  court,  re- 
turned to  the  Tuileries.  His  return  was  noted 
by  the  daily  papers,  and  the  flag  floating  over 
the  central  pavilion  signalled  his  presence. 
Fouch6  was  among  his  first  visitors. 

Bonaparte  was  in  his  cabinet  with  Bour- 
rienne  when  an  aide-de-camp  knocked  at  the 
door.  Bonaparte  nodded  to  show  Bourrienne 
that  he  had  heard  the  knock,  and  continued  to 
dictate  his  letters,  pacing  the  floor  and,  as 
was  his  constant  habit  when  thinking,  scratch- 
ing the  edge  of  his  left  sleeve  with  the  tips  of 
his  fingers.  One  letter  followed  another,  and 
another.  The  correspondence  would  have 
continued  indefinitely  had  not  Bourrienne  said 
in  the  peciiliarly  coaxing  tone  of  affection 
used  by  the  young  generals  when  speaking  to 
their  chief  and  comrade: 

"  But,  General,  had  you  forgotten  Fouch6? " 
169 


I70  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Fouche!"  said  Bonaparte.  "You  are 
right,  I  must  go  to  him." 

The  ex-minister  was  waiting  in  the  salon 
of  Bonaparte's  private  suite  of  rooms. 

"Good -day,  citizen  Fouch6,"  said  Bona- 
parte.    ' '  You  have  news  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  General  Consul.  Cadoudal  is  in 
Paris  with  his  servant,  Joseph  Picot,  and 
Coster  de  Saint- Victor." 

"I  know  it,"  the  Consul  answered  drily. 
"R6al  told  me  that  yesterday." 

"Did  he  tell  you  also  that  Generals  Piche- 
gru  and  Moreau  are  conspiring  with  him?" 

"  Moreauf'  Bonaparte's  pale  face  turned 
still  paler.  "He  hates  me,  but  I  will  not 
believe  that  he  could  conspire  against  me  with 
the  Chouans!" 

"And  what  do  you  say  of  Pichegru?" 

"As  far  as  he  is  concerned,  I  can  believe 
anything.  Pichegru  is  completely  out  of  his 
course.  The  man  is  a  moral  wreck.  But  I 
will  not  believe  it  about  Moreau!" 

"Ah?" 

"What  proof  have  you?" 

"I  can  get  proof." 

"I  cannot  believe  it!  Moreau!  the  man 
who  stood  by  me  the  i8th  Brumaire!" 

"That  is  the  one  thing  that  he  cannot  for- 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  171 

give.  Had  he  not  stood  by  you  on  that  occa- 
sion, he,  as  he  supposes,  would  hold  the  power 
to-day." 

"But  I  did  all  that  I  could  do  for  him,"  said 
Bonaparte.  "I  gave  him  the  largest  and  the 
bravest  of  my  armies;  I  kept  nothing  for 
myself,  but  the  little  army  of  the  reserve — 
the  few  men  who  fought  at  Marengo." 

"Moreau  met  Cadoudal  by  appointment," 
said  Fouche.  "That  is  a  fact  that  cannot  be 
changed  by  any  amount  of  reasoning." 

"What  did  he  decide  to  do?"  Bonaparte 
asked.  "Did  he  think  that  I  ought  to  die? 
.  .  .  The  Chouans  mean  to  kill  me ;  that  much 
I  know.  .  .  .  But  I  never  can  believe  that 
Moreau " 

Both  men  were  standing.  Fouch6  grey  of 
face  and  dim  of  eye,  studied  the  pallid  face 
and  drooping  shoulders  before  him. 

"You  are  confident.  General,"  he  said. 

"And  you,  citizen  Fouch6,  are  suspicious." 

"It  is  my  business  to  be  so." 

"You  used  to  defend  the  Jacobins." 

"Because  I  thought  them  innocent  of  evil 
to  the  State." 

* '  And  now  you  do  not  think  them  innocent  ? '  * 

"They  are  plotting." 

"Led  by  whom?" 


172  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"By  incorrigible  revolutionists;  men  who 
are  fiirious  because  they  are  not  allowed  to 
gamble  in  public  places;  they  who  in  former 
times  ignored  the  law  and  held  the  people  in 
terror." 

"Their  time  is  past." 

"They  believe  that  your  removal  will 
restore  their  liberty  of  action.  They  see 
clear ;  they  know  that  the  Consulate  is  march- 
ing with  forced  speed  to  the  Empire  acclaimed 
by  your  soldiery." 

"The  army  acclaims  the  Empire  because 
the  nation  demands  it." 

"Possibly.  But  if  lieutenants  of  yoxir  army 
grumble,  why  should  a  certain  General  conceal 
his  personal  regret?" 

"My  lieutenants  may  grumble,  but  they 
love  me  and  they  are  faithful.  Lannes  would 
die  for  me.  Ney  is  a  frondeur,  a  chronic 
agitator  and  critic  of  everything  in  the  ad- 
ministration, but  he  loves  me;  Bessidres, 
Augereau,  Soult,  and  Davout  are  true." 

"AndBemadotte?" 

"Ah!  that  one! — He  is  plotting,  I  know 
it!  He  has  opposed  me  always.  Even  at 
Marengo  I  doubted  him.  If  he  had  not  been 
my  brother  Joseph's  brother-in-law,  I  should 
have  sent  him  before  a  court  martial  long  ago." 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  173 

"The  police  served  you  well  on  that  occa- 
sion," said  Fouche.  "  But  it  is  the  way  of  the 
world,  something  quite  of  the  natural  order, 
that  man  should  forget!  The  greatest,  the 
most  supreme  of  htiman  intelligences,  are 
those  least  mindful  of  services  rendered." 

"Citizen  FouchSr* 

"General,  I  am  not  speaking  of  you.  You 
did  not  punish  me  for  serving  you  faithfully: 
therefore  I  ought  to  be  thankful.  If  one  of 
the  bullets  that  crossed  near  the  village  of 
San  Juliano  had  killed  you  before  Desaix 
arrived,  I  should  have  had  to  do  nothing  but 
fold  my  arms  to  change  the  face  of  Europe. 
But  I  had  faith  in  your  destiny.  I  warned 
your  brother  Joseph. — ^And  now  I  am  in 
disgrace!" 

Bonaparte  paced  the  floor.  After  meditat- 
ing twenty  minutes,  he  wheeled  and  faced 
Fouch6,  who  had  remained  on  foot  throughout 
the  interview.  Darting  a  flaming  look  of 
command  at  the  passionless  face  of  the  deposed 
minister,  "You  have  told  me  that  you  have 
proofs  of  Moreau's  connivance  with  Georges 
Cadoudal,"  he  said.     "Bring  them  to  me." 

He  had  given  no  word  of  promise.  But  his 
look,  his  voice,  and  the  circtimstances  author- 
ised Fouche  to  indulge  in  ambitious  hopes. 


174  The  Eagle's  Talon 

He  bowed  before  Bonaparte  and  answered  in 
the  voice  of  a  man  speaking  of  an  ordinary 
matter: 

"General,  you  shall  have  them." 
Bonaparte  returned  to  Bourrienne,  and  pac- 
ing the  floor  and  plucking  at  his  sleeve,  resumed 
his  dictation.  Toward  evening  he  finished  his 
correspondence.  His  faculties  were  keen; 
he  knew  nothing  of  mental  fatigue;  but  his 
daily  task  was  done;  all  the  letters  to  be  sent 
were  piled  on  Bourrienne's  desk.  Standing  by 
the  open  window,  Bourrienne  looked  out  upon 
the  terrace  of  the  Tuileries.  The  sun  was  set- 
ting in  a  purple  haze,  and  the  tops  of  the  old 
trees,  where  the  doves  were  settling  for  the 
night,  gleamed  like  polished  bronze.  Duroc 
opened  the  door.  He  took  from  his  breast  a 
knot  of  grey  ribbon  and  gave  it  to  the  Consul. 

"Is  the  young  person  here?"  asked  Bona- 
parte. 

"She  is  in  my  office  awaiting  orders." 
"It  is  not  known  that  she  is  here?" 
"Her  entrance  was  not  observed." 
Bonaparte  passed  through  the  map  room 
where  the  geographer,  Bacler  d'Albe,  sat  at 
his  drawings,  and  went  up  the  narrow  stairs 
leading  to  Josephine's  apartments,  passed  the 
door,  and  went  up  another  flight  of  stairs. 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  175 

Dtiroc,  who  had  accompanied  him,  opened 
the  door  of  his  own  room.  The  Countess 
de  Montmoran  sat  before  the  window.  Co- 
quetry in  a  young  and  pretty  woman  appealed 
to  Bonaparte.  Mme.  de  Montmoran  was 
dressed  in  fine  India  muslin.  Her  scarf  had 
dropped  to  her  waist  and  her  beautifiil  arms 
and  neck  were  bare.  A  pale  blue  turban  of 
sheer  silk  muslin,  trimmed  with  a  rosette  of 
pale  blue  tulle  fastened  at  the  centre  by  a 
splendid  sapphire,  crowned  her  gracefiil  head 
and  shaded  her  piquant  face  and  soft  brown 
eyes.  Her  little  feet  were  in  blue  satin  bus- 
kins. She  sat  in  the  fading  light,  silent  and 
motionless,  a  seductive  figure. 

When  the  door  opened,  she  turned  and  made 
a  movement  as  if  to  rise. 

"Remain  seated!"  ordered  Bonaparte. 
"You  are  too  pretty  as  you  are,  to  disturb 
the  harmony  of  the  scene  by  any  concession 
to  etiquette!" 

Dtiroc  had  disappeared.  Bonaparte  drew 
a  chair  close  to  the  chair  in  which  the  Countess 
was  seated,  and  asked  abruptly: 

"Well,  have  you  brought  me  news?" 

"Yes,  General  Consul,  news  of  supreme 
importance." 

Hearing  nothing  but  her  peculiarly  sweet 


176  The  Eagle's  Talon 

voice,  and  seeing  nothing  but  the  beauty  of 
her  charming  face  and  form,  Bonaparte  drew 
his  chair  still  closer  and  laid  his  hand  on  one 
of  the  hands  but  half  concealed  by  fine  white 
silken  mittens.  Holding  the  little  hand  in 
his  strong  grasp,  he  turned  it  as  a  bird  charmer 
turns  a  bird,  and  with  the  thimib  and  fore- 
finger of  his  left  hand,  gently  explored  it  from 
wrist  to  finger  tip,  and  from  the  rounded, 
softly  swelling  back  to  the  warm  palm. 

"  Countess,"  he  said,  "you  have  a  charming 
hand.     How  old  are  you?" 

She  reddened  with  anger. 

"General,"  she  asked,  "with  what  are  you 
busying  yourself?  At  risk  of  my  life  I  have 
come  here  to  warn  you  of  mortal  danger!" 

"I  am  grateful,"  he  answered.  "But  is 
that  a  reason  why  I  should  not  recognise  your 
right  to  my  admiration?  You  are  beautiful, 
and  whether  my  life  is  in  danger  or  not,  I 
have  eyes  and  senses,  and  I  use  them." 

His  gallantry  annoyed  her.  His  indiffer- 
ence to  his  peril  threatened  to  jeopardise  the 
success  of  her  enterprise.  The  thought  that 
he  had  taken  her  for  an  adventuress  bent  on 
the  exploitation  of  her  charms  aroused  all 
her  resistance.  Bonaparte  was  notable  for 
his  generosity.     Women  aspired  to  please  him. 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  177 

"It  may  be  that  he  thinks  that  my  aim  is 
to  tempt  his  fancy,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I 
will  show  him  that  I  can  spurn  the  favour  of  a 
conqueror!  He  may  be  master  of  France; 
he  shall  not  be  my  master!" 

Indignant  at  his  misconception  of  her 
efforts,  she  drew  her  hand  rudely  from  his 
resisting  grasp. 

"Instead  of  playing  the  gallant,  General 
Bonaparte,"  she  said,  her  face  assuming  a 
look  of  determined  severity,  "be  kind  enough 
to  think  of  your  obligations  to  France.  Your 
enemies  are  preparing  to  kill  you;  and  I  have 
come  here  to  give  you  means  to  foil  their 
plans." 

His  thin  lip  curled  as  always  when  he  was 
angry. 

"You  are  very  disdainful  of  the  favours 
that  many  in  your  position  would  solicit!" 
he  said.  "If  you  do  not  wish  me  to  admire 
you,  why  have  you  displayed  your  arms  and 
shoulders?" 

"I  came  here  to  save  your  life;  is  that  a 
reason  why  I  should  appear  in  a  blanket? 
Really,  General,  you  have  a  pronounced 
mania  for  conquest.  It  makes  no  difference 
to  you  whether  your  conquest  is  an  army  or  a 
woman!" 


178  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  conqueror  of  Areola  raised  his  eyes  to 
the  saucy  face  of  his  visitor.  "Your  capacity 
for  raillery  proves  the  excellence  of  your  race," 
he  said  with  sententious  emphasis.  "I  am 
listening.  When  I  have  given  you  the  atten- 
tion that  you  demand,  it  is  possible  that  you 
will  consent  to  forget  your  political  pre- 
occupations to  the  advantage  of  questions 
more  appropriate  to  the  natural  impulses  of 
woman." 

She  smiled  and  answered  with  a  look  of 
defiance:  "When  my  political  impulses  give 
place  to  what  it  pleases  you  to  class  among  the 
more  natural  impulses,  I  shall  know  that  my 
transformation  is  approved  by  the  high  author- 
ity of  a  powerful  political  State.  And  now, 
General  Consul,  may  I  tell  you  why  I  came 
here  to-night?" 

''Speak,  citizen,"  he  said,  "I  am  listening." 

"Before  I  speak  I  must  ask  you  to  give  me 
your  word  that  you  will  protect  the  person 
to  whom  I  owe  my  information.  Twenty- 
four  hours  ago  your  enemies — Chouans  and 
Jacobins  —  met  in  a  house  in  Paris.  The 
man  who  owns  the  house  informed  me  of  the 
facts." 

"What  is  his  name?" 

"Gorgeret." 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  179 

''Ah,  that  one?  the  man  Barras  decorated 
with  the  descriptive  title  of  'glutton*!  .  .  . 
I  remember  him,  an  army  contractor.  .  .  . 
Acquired  his  fortune  by  traflQcking  in  aliment- 
ary products  .  .  .  fed  poison  to  the  troops." 
His  face  darkened ;  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
with  hands  behind  his  back,  paced  the  floor. 
"All  that  must  be  reformed!  ..."  He 
stopped  before  the  chair  where  the  Countess 
sat  awaiting  his  attention. 

"Well  then,  Countess,  they  met  at  this 
fellow  Gorgeret's!  .  .  .  Who  were  they?" 

"Georges  Cadoudal,  Riviere,  Pichegru,  de 
Polignac,  and  Moreau." 

"You  are  sure  of  it?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Moreau  was  there?" 

"Moreau,  Pichegru,  Polignac,  Rividre  .  .  . 
and  others." 

"  Others?    Who  were  they?  " 

"Inferior  men  .  .  .  low  fellows  who,  with 
all  connected  with  them,  will  fall  into  your 
net." 

"What  did  they  talk  about?" 

"They  planned  to  entice  you  to  Gorgeret's 
house  to  meet  the  girl  whose  interview  at 
Saint-Cloud  was  cut  short." 

Intensely  suspicious,  and  of  a  mind  exces- 


i8o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

sively  clairvoyant,  Bonaparte  controlled  his 
impulse  to  think  aloud. 

"I  must  act  at  once,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Now  that  I  know  their  plans,  I  can  take 
them  right  there,  in  their  own  trap." 

Night  was  falling.  Here  and  there  the 
stars  were  coming  into  sight.  Bonaparte 
raised  his  eyes  and  saluted  his  own  bright, 
far-off  planet.  At  the  same  moment  the 
sentries  in  the  boxes  on  the  quay  reversed 
arms,  and  the  drums  of  the  consular  guard 
beat  the  retreat.  In  Duroc's  room,  where 
the  strange  pair  sat,  the  outlines  of  the  ftir- 
niture  were  barely  discernible. 

The  Countess  said:  "And  now  I  have  told 
you  all  that  it  is  important  for  you  to  know. 
The  conspirators  will  lure  you  to  Gorgeret's 
house,  and  there  they  will  kill  you." 

Bonaparte  spoke  as  if  ready  to  end  the 
interview. 

"You  have  rendered  inestimable  service 
in  bringing  me  this  information." 

"Do  not  be  too  grateful,"  said  Montmoran. 
"I  hate  Cadoudal  and  his  aids.  By  exter- 
minating them  you  will  gratify  my  ardent 
hopes." 

He  peered  curiously  into  her  set  face. 

"That  much,  if  it  concerns  my  interests  at 


A  Plot  and  its  Victims  i8i 

all,  does  not  satisfy  my  indebtedness  to  you. 
I  shall  be  ready  to  accord  you  any  favour 
within  my  gift." 

' '  Eh,  General, ' '  she  said  laughing, ' '  you  were 
ready  to  accord  your  favours  before  I  proved  my 
power  to  render  service.   I  shall  remember  it. '  * 

*' You  are  a  strong  woman,"  Bonaparte  said, 
advancing  to  the  door.  "You  have  a  mind 
above  coquetry,  something  quite  new  in  my 
experience." 

"The  General  Consul  is  a  most  competent 
critic,"  she  said  mischievously.  "But  now, 
one  last  word:  Be  careful!'' 

Standing  with  his  hand  upon  the  doorknob, 
he  fell  into  a  reverie,  and  according  to  his 
habit,  lost  consciousness  of  his  surrotmdings 
and  voiced  his  thoughts: 

"The  girl  is  the  bait!  .  .  .  But  how  qo 
they  get  hold  of  her?  The  plot  was  laid  by 
Sapi6ha,  or  by  Lucien — ^vain  fop!  Their 
motive  is  jealousy;  they  love  her." 

"Do  not  look  so  high,  General,"  murmured 
the  Countess,  who  stood  close  to  the  door 
ready  to  pass  out.  "George  Wemmer  is  sur- 
rounded by  intriguers.  Her  confidential  friend, 
a  widow,  loves  a  man  who  passes  for  an  Italian 
nobleman,  Marquis  de  Crescenti,  but  who  is 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor.     This  widow,  Citizen 


i82  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Sinclair,  is  a  cat's-paw  for  Crescenti,  and  both 
are  intimate  with  Raucourt  and  Wemmer. 
The  two  actresses,  the  old  one  and  the  young 
one,  are  searching  for  a  safe  place  for  yoxir 
meeting  with  the  pretty  girl.  La  Sinclair,  act- 
ing by  advice  of  Coster,  has  chosen  Gorgeret's 
house  for  the  meeting.  You  know  the  plan; 
shape  it  as  you  see  fit." 

Bonaparte  opened  the  door  and  called  to 
Duroc,  who  had  remained  on  guard: 

"Conduct  Mme.  the  Coimtess  to  the  Court 
of  the  Carrousel." 

*T  thank  you.  General,"  she  said,  "my 
carriage  awaits  me." 

Bonaparte  went  down  the  stairs,  through 
the  map  room  where  the  geographer  still  sat 
at  work.  The  palace  had  been  lighted  and  in 
the  Consul's  own  apartment,  in  dinner  dress, 
attended  by  Hortense  Beauhamais  and  Caro- 
line Murat,  Josephine  sat,  amiable  and  lan- 
guid, awaiting  her  husband. 

Caroline  cried  gaily:  "This  is  the  seventh 
chicken  sent  to  the  spit  while  we  waited  for 
you." 

Bonaparte,  calm  and  in  excellent  humour, 
greeted  his  family  one  by  one,  gave  Hortense 
a  paternal  kiss,  and,  served  by  Roustam,  sat 
down  to  his  dinner. 


In  the  Consul's  own  apartment,  in  dinner  dress,  attended  by 
Hortense  Beauhamais  and  Caroline  Murat,  Josephine  sat." 


CHAPTER  XII 

LOVE  AND  PERIL 

CARLY  in  the  morning  Bonaparte  sum- 
^  moned  Fouch4.  All  night  his  busy  brain 
had  been  at  work.  He  realised  that  in  the 
short  course  of  a  few  hours  he  had  entered 
into  confidential  relations  with  a  woman  of 
whose  character  he  knew  nothing.  Who  was 
she?  Whence  had  she  come?  How  far  cotdd 
he  trust  in  her  co-operation?  He  knew  that 
Fouche's  memory  held  everything  that  had 
related  to  the  police  and  to  the  army.  He 
knew  that  Fouch6  kept  a  register  of  the  spies 
and  a  record  of  their  acts.  He  knew  that 
Real,  though  a  man  of  strict  probity,  was  less 
capable  by  far  of  good  work  than  was  Fouch6. 
Informed  of  Fouche's  arrival,  the  Consul,  who 
had  been  at  work  in  his  cabinet,  went  into  his 
private  salon.  As  usual  the  face  of  the  ex- 
oratorian  was  calm  and  serious  but  indifferent. 
"Citizen  Fouch6,"  said  Bonaparte.  "I 
have  had  grave  news.  Your  suspicions  con- 
cerning Moreau  have  been  confirmed." 

183 


184  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Fouch6  stood  before  the  Consul  silent. 

"I  know,"  pursued  Bonaparte,  "that 
Moreau  is  plotting  with  the  Jacobins." 

Fouche  raised  his  head  and  made  an  em- 
phatic gesture  of  denial. 

"Ah?    You  think  not?" 

"  I  know  it.  Moreau,  Cadoudal,  and  others 
met.  They  offered  Moreau  an  exalted  posi- 
tion imder  the  King.  He  refused  to  treat  with 
them." 

"Are  you  sure  of  it?" 

"I  was  told  so  by  a  man  of  Moreau's  house- 
hold .     The  news  came  from  General  Laj  olais. ' ' 

"Lajolais!"  exclaimed  Bonaparte.  "An 
intriguer!  A  man  dismissed  from  the  service! 
What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  that  he  had  received  his  informa- 
tion from  Liebert." 

'  *  Anoth  er  intriguer !  * ' 

"He  said  that  Moreau  refused  to  serve  the 
princes  in  any  capacity.  According  to  the 
story  told  to  me,  Moreau  said  that  any  step 
taken  by  him  would  be  taken  in  his  own 
interest." 

"Did  Moreau  think  that  I  ought  to  die?" 

"My  information  did  not  cover  that  point. 
Nothing  was  said  about  your  death." 

"Is  that  all?" 


Love  and  Peril  185 

"I  know,"  piirsued  Fouch6,  "that  citizen 
R6al  is  at  this  moment  searching  the  prisons 
for  men  condemned  for  work  in  the  cause  of 
the  Chouannerie.  Spies  have  been  placed  in 
cells  communicating  with  the  cells  of  the 
Chouan  suspects.  Savary  is  watching  the 
cliff  at  Biville,  but  his  surveillance  is  useless 
because  the  Royalists  have  changed  their 
landing  place.  They  now  enter  by  way  of 
Belgiimi  or  Germany.  In  the  duchy  of  Baden 
there  is  a  Royalist  centre.  Not  long  ago 
General  Dimiouriez  went  there  to  meet  the 
Duke  d'Enghien." 

"Ah?"  said  Bonaparte.  "This  is  interest- 
ing. I  shall  recall  Savary  at  once.  He  will 
be  more  useful  in  Paris  than  in  Normandy." 

"If  he  can  be  of  use  in  any  place  or  un- 
der any  circumstances  "  said  Fouch6,  who 
had  no  respect  for  the  work  of  the  Constd's 
favourite. 

After  a  short  silence  Bonaparte  said: 

"Do  you  know  a  woman  named  Montmo- 
ran,  a  pretty  woman,  possibly  of  more  or  less 
gallantry,  ...  a  person  who  frequents  places 
of  amusement?" 

"But  General,"  the  ex-oratorian  answered, 
"your  prefect  of  police  ought  to  be  better 
able  than  I  am  to  satisfy  your  curiosity  on 


i86  The  Eagle's  Talon 

that  subject.  My  duties  have  never  included 
surveillance  of  the  women  of  Paris." 

"I  know  it,  citizen.  But  I  take  advantage 
of  your  visit  to  ask  you  if  you  know  anything 
concerning  the  woman.  If  you  do  not  know 
her,  do  not  answer." 

Fouch6  smiled. 

"I  know  Montmoran.  WhenCadoudal  was 
tmder  arms  the  last  time,  up  there  in  Brittany, 
I  employed  her.  She  is  very  keen  and  a 
worker.     I  paid  a  high  price  for  her  services." 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"She  infatuated  Cadoudal.  The  man  went 
mad  over  her,  and  she  barely  failed  to  deliver 
him  to  us  at  three  different  times.  The  third 
time  he  caught  her  at  it,  and  pimished  her." 

"She  hates  him?" 

"Yes,  with  all  her  strength." 

"Can  we  trust  her?" 

"As  far  as  he  is  concerned,  yes." 

"And  if  he  is  not  concerned?" 

"Even  then  we  can  trust  her  if  no  one  offers 
her  more  money.  She  works  best  for  the  one 
who  pays  the  highest  price." 

There  was  silence.  Some  minutes  later 
Fouch6  asked: 

"Did  you  stunmon  me  in  order  to  question 
me  about  Montmoran?" 


Love  and  Peril  187 

"Yes." 

"  I  can  tell  you  all  about  her.  My  best  man, 
Braconneau,  worked  with  her  at  the  time 
Cadoudal  discovered  her  true  character.  I 
will  order  him  to  watch  her  and  to  report  at 
once." 

So  everything  was  made  clear  to  Bonaparte, 
and  he  was  enabled  to  develop  the  Chouans' 
plot  to  suit  his  own  necessities.  His  life  hung 
upon  a  gallant  adventure,  therefore  he  was 
master  of  the  situation,  and  he,  in  his  own 
name,  could  appoint  his  place  of  meeting  with 
little  Wemmer. 

Virginie  Sinclair  lived  on  the  fifth  floor  of  a 
handsome  apartment  house,  in  a  flat  main- 
tained at  the  expense  of  an  elderly  wholesale 
feather  merchant,  whose  elderly  wife  was  of  a 
nature  so  suspicious  that  the  visits  paid  by 
her  husband  to  his  ward  were  rare.  Deep  in 
love  for  the  first  time  in  a  short  but  brilliant 
life  of  triimiphant  coquetry,  Virginie  saw  only 
through  her  lover's  eyes,  and  lived  for  no 
purpose  but  to  be  true  to  her  own  conception 
of  her  duty.  Her  thoughts  of  the  man  to 
whom  she  owned  the  maintenance  of  her 
home  were  limited  to  a  fevered  consciousness 


i88  The  Eagle's  Talon 

of  the  necessity  of  keeping  the  knowledge  of 
his  existence  from  Fournier,  Colonel  of  the 
Consular  Guard,  who  loved  her,  and  whom 
she  had  supposed  that  she  loved,  until  Cres- 
centi  aroused  her  latent  soul.  Crescenti, 
tired  of  long  service  in  a  thankless  cause, 
heartsick,  indifferent  to  the  lighter  things  of 
life,  was  fond  of  the  vivacious  but  gentle  girl 
who  loved  him.  He  gave  her  all  his  leisure, 
and  profited  by  her  knowledge  of  the  Repub- 
lican world  to  further  the  interests  of  the 
cause  of  the  princes. 

"Fancy,  Giolo  wi'o,"she  said  to  him  one  day, 
"the  poor  Constil!  His  spoil-sport  tampers 
even  with  his  private  business!" 

"And  what  has  she  done  now,  little  one?'' 
asked  Crescenti,  looking  deep  into  her  eyes 
as  she  perched  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"What  has  she  not  done?  At  her  age  is  it 
just  to  cry  like  a  child,  for  Bonaparte?  She 
does  it  publicly;  Wemmer  heard  her."  She 
paused  to  trace  imaginary  furrows  on  his 
temples  with  the  tips  of  her  restless  fingers, 
and  to  drop  kisses  as  if  sowing  seeds. 

"Oh,  the  injustice  of  it,  Giolo  mio!  It  is 
cruel !  The  whole  world  is  forced  to  suffer  for 
that  woman.  Why  do  we  wear  oiu*  belts 
under    our    arms?     Because,    owing    to    the 


Love  and  Peril  189 

desiccation  of  her  physical  tissues,  the  per- 
sonality of  mother  Beauhamais  can  no  longer 
maintain  its  independence!" 

"What?"  asked  Crescenti.  "Is  it  as  bad 
as  that?" 

"Do  not  laugh,  Giolo  mio!  This  is  serious. 
We  are  young ;  we  might  at  least  preserve  some 
hint  of  original  nattire.  But  no!  we  must  gird 
ourselves  like  mimimies,  because  the  old  consu- 
lar Creole  must  sustain  the  empire  uplift !  .  .  . 
The  Constil  invited  Wemmer  to  Saint-Cloud; 
Josephine,  in  her  jealousy,  intervened.  And 
now  the  imfortimate  creatures  are  looking  for 
a  place  where  they  can  meet  in  peace."  Her 
mind  wandered  from  the  delicate  wrists  and 
slender  hands  of  the  Italian  noble  to  Foumier 
and  other  hotspurs  whose  jealous  love  had 
troubled  a  third  of  her  existence,  and  lajdng 
her  head  on  her  lover's  shoulder,  she  whispered, 
"You  are  so  calm,  so  gentle,  Giolo;  ...  we 
are  so  happy!  Talk  to  me  of  Florence! 
When  you  tell  me  about  your  youth,  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  am  with  you  in  that  dear  home, 
and  that  all  the  perftmies  of  the  valley  of  the 
Amo  fan  my  face.  If  you  do  not  tire  of  me, 
if  you  love  me  long  enough,  we  may  go  there 
together — ^you  and  I." 

"Possibly,"     he    answered    abstractedly. 


190  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Stranger  things  than  that  have  happened. 
.  .  .  Well,  and  when  the  Creole  intervened?" 

"Then  Wemmer  went  away.  Constant, 
the  royal  valet,  arrived  at  the  theatre  during 
rehearsal  the  day  after  the  scandal.  Bona- 
parte sent  a  set  of  cameos.  They  are  lovely! 
And  now  the  question  is  where  can  they  meet?" 

"And  why  not  here,  carissima  mia?''  said 
Crescenti.  "Your  apartment  is  most  dainty. 
For  that  one  day  we  could  go  far  away." 

She  laughed  and  struck  her  palms  together. 

"  I  will  suggest  it !  I  will  fill  the  rooms  with 
flowers,  and  I  will  set  a  little  table!  Poor 
Constil!  Here  at  least  he  will  be  free  from 
his  old  baby!" 

Having  set  her  artless  mind  before  the 
sinister  work,  Crescenti  said  nothing  more  of 
the  interview  to  come.  A  few  days  later  the 
little  widow  received  a  shock  which  deepened 
to  despairing  tenderness  her  tranquil  love  for 
her  Italian. 

Coster's  chief  work  had  been  the  preserva- 
tion of  his  disguise,  the  stain  upon  his  flesh, 
and  the  brown  wig  that  covered  his  own  fair 
hair.  Always  awake  at  daybreak,  he  per- 
fected his  disguise  while  Virginie  slept.  One 
morning,  awakened  by  a  dream  filled  like  all 
her  dreams  with  peril  for  her  lover,  the  girl 


Love  and  Peril  191 

raised  her  head  from  her  pillow.  In  her 
elaborate  nightdress,  a  robe  more  volimiinous 
and  more  modest  than  the  clinging  empire 
scabbard  worn  during  the  day,  her  white  feet 
bare,  she  ran  through  the  corridor,  opened  the 
door  of  the  dressing-room,  and  stopped  aghast. 
The  face  of  the  man  before  the  mirror  was  not 
the  face  she  knew. 

White  skinned,  blooming  like  a  rose,  and 
aureoled  with  fine  blonde  hair,  the  face  con- 
fronted her.  She  stood  still.  It  was  Cres- 
centi.  She  knew  him  by  the  proud  carriage 
of  his  head,  and  by  the  graceful  elegance  of 
his  slender  but  vigorous  form. 

''Giolor'  she  cried.  "Oh!  how  could  you? 
All  this  time  you  have  deceived  me.  You 
have  been  disguised!    What  does  it  mean?" 

He  turned,  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and 
answered,  "It  means  nothing!  I  am  the  man 
who  loves  you  and  the  man  you  love.  What 
matters  it  that  my  hair  is  fair  and  that  my 
skin  is  white?  You  loved  me  neither  for  my 
skin  nor  for  my  nationality.  I  love  you  with 
all  my  strength.  You  will  find  that  I  love  you 
as  I  have  ever,  and  shall  for  ever,  love  you, 
even  though  I  am  not  a  dark-haired  Italian, 
but  a  fair-haired  Frenchman." 

She  had  fallen  fainting  on  his  breast.     She 


192  The  Eagle's  Talon 

came  out  of  her  swoon  and  looked  up  into  his 
handsome  face,  wild-eyed. 

"You  are  beautiful,"  she  said  humbly. 
"You  are  angelic,  with  your  dreamy  eyes  and 
hair  like  silvered  gold,  and  your  white  skin. 
But  why  were  you  disguised?  Why  did  you 
deceive  the  woman  who  loves  you?  You  are 
not  an  actor?" 

"No,"  he  said  laughing,  "I  am  not  an 
actor." 

"A  counterfeiter,  .  .  .  a  bank  robber? " 

"I  am  an  honest  man.  But  my  life  is  at 
stake;  therefore  I  am  disguised.  /  am  a 
Chouany 

He  passed  the  sponge,  wet  with  brown  stain, 
over  his  face,  neck,  and  arms,  and  adjusted 
his  brown  wig. 

"You  are  a  conspirator!"  she  said,  wringing 
her  hands.  "What  will  become  of  me?  I  love 
you  and  I  must  suffer!" 

"I  will  go  away.  You  shall  never  see  me 
any  more." 

"If  you  go,  it  is  because  you  do  not  love 
me.  But  I—  wretched  girl  that  I  am — /  love 
you!  I  never  lived  until  I  loved  you.  Leave 
me  and  I  will  die!" 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  love  me,"  he  reasoned. 
"You  told  me  that  you  used  to  believe  that 


I 


Love  and  Peril  193 

you  loved  Foiimier.  You  will  forget  me  and 
love  another." 

"Never." 

"Listen  to  me,  Virginie.  You  were  safe 
as  long  as  you  did  not  know  my  true  character ; 
for,  brought  before  the  inquisitors,  you  could 
have  sworn  that  you  knew  nothing.  Now 
that  you  know  me  as  I  am,  you  are  in  danger. 
I  am  hunted.  If  they  find  me,  I  shall  be  shot. 
To  stay  with  you  is  to  drag  you  down.  Tell 
me  to  go.  Forget  me,  begin  a  new  life  and 
be  happy." 

Her  desperate  arms  were  arotmd  him. 

"No!"  she  sobbed.  "I  will  not  give  you 
up!" 

"Whether  I  go  or  stay,  our  time  of  parting 
is  at  hand.  My  life  is  pledged  to  a  cause.  I 
have  hardly  the  shadow  of  a  winning  chance. 
To  lose  means  death.     You  must  let  me  go." 

Seizing  him  with  all  the  strength  of  her 
weak  hands,  she  cried,  grinding  her  teeth: 
"  You  shall  not  go!  If  you  attempt  to  leave 
me,  I  will  denounce  you  and  die  with  you. 
You  shall  not  live  a  life  I  do  not  share!" 

He  kissed  the  soft  arms  and  the  straining 
hands. 

"Little  monster!"  he  murmured;  and  de- 
sperate, standing  in  the  shadow  of  advancing 
13 


194  The  Eagle's  Talon 

death,  in  the  sunset  of  their  love,  the  unhappy 
creattires  clung  together. 

"Tell  me  your  secrets!"  she  implored. 
"Put  faith  in  me  and  see  how  true  I  shall  be 
to  you  and  to  your  cause.  No  matter  who 
you  are,  no  matter  what  you  do,  I  will  stand 
by  you." 

"Virginie,  have  mercy!  Do  not  ask  me  to 
break  my  vow!" 

"No!  no!  Giolo  mo,"  she  said  fondly.  "I 
will  not  ask  it,  I  will  hear  nothing,  see  nothing ! 
Only  stay  with  me;  and  when  the  time  comes, 
I  will  die  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  READINESS 

IV/IOREAU  returned  from  his  interview  with 
'■^  *■  the  Royalists  a  prey  to  contrary  emo- 
tions. His  feeling  against  Bonaparte  was 
intense,  but  the  loyal  soldier  of  the  Revolu- 
tion abhorred  the  thought  of  assassination, 
and,  save  on  the  field  of  battle,  he  had  never 
shed  blood. 

He  did  not  like  war;  naturally  himiane,  he 
was  generous  and  kind  to  the  woimded  and 
prisoners.  Though  loyal,  just,  and  forgiving, 
he  was  a  stem  critic,  and  in  his  house  he  had, 
in  his  wife  and  her  mother,  evil  counsellors, 
who  incessantly  incited  him  to  note  the  faults 
of  "the  Bonaparte  faction."  On  the  way 
home  from  Paris  he  had  time  to  review  the 
himiiliating  details  of  his  conference  with 
Cadoudal.  Mme.  H61ot  and  her  daughter, 
who  had  been  informed  of  the  projected  visit 
to  Paris,  had  awaited  his  arrival  with  intense 
anxiety,  but  the  expression  of  his  pale  face 
made  questions  impossible.    After  a  few  brief 

195 


196  The  Eagle's  Talon 

indifferent  words  he  bade  the  ladies  good- 
night, and  saying  that  he  had  important  work 
to  do,  and  that  he  must  be  alone,  he  went  into 
his  cabinet  and  locked  the  door.  Creeping 
to  the  door  toward  daybreak,  his  anxious  wife 
heard  the  even  tread  of  his  slippered  feet  on 
the  waxed  floor.  At  sunrise  he  went  to  bed. 
At  eleven  o'clock  he  sent  for  Fresnieres,  his 
secretary,  who  knew  all  his  secrets.  Fresni- 
eres knew  that  Pichegru  had  made  overtures 
concerning  Cadoudal,  but  Moreau  had  not 
mentioned  his  appointed  meeting  in  the  rue 
Saint-Honor6.  He  was  painfully  conscious 
of  the  meaning  of  all  that  he  considered  crim- 
inal in  his  participation  in  what  he  qualified 
as  "the  work  of  the  stipended  tools  of  Pitt 
and  Coburg,"  and  though  he  habitually 
thought  aloud  when  with  his  secretary,  he  had 
blushed  at  the  thought  of  making  known  to 
Fresnieres  his  consideration  of  an  alliance 
with  the  Royalists.  But  after  the  interview 
his  wounded  pride  demanded  an  outlet,  and 
the  ardent  spite  of  the  devoted  women  whom 
he  called  his  "two  wives"  caused  him  to 
shrink  from  casting  himself  upon  their  sym- 
pathy. In  the  dark  hours  of  his  soul  it  was 
his  habit  to  go  to  Fresnieres  for  coimsel  and 
for  warning.     He  had  barely  begim  to  speak 


In  Readiness  197 

when  Fresni^res  paled  and  clutched  the  arm  of 
his  chair.  When  Moreau  told  him  what  the 
Chouan  had  proposed  and  what  he  had  an- 
swered, Fresnieres  cried: 

"That  is  Moreau!  Ah,  General,  I  knew  it! 
But  how  did  they  dare  to  insult  you  by  such 
a  proposal?" 

"It  is  probable  that  Pichegru  gave  them 
the  impression  that  I  was  prepared  to  listen 
to  them." 

"What  right  had  Pichegru  to  approach  you? 
What  is  there  in  common  between  you  and 
Pichegru?" 

"Disgrace." 

"His  condemnation  was  just.  Your  dis- 
grace was  without  reason  and  without  excuse. 
General,  I  beg  of  you!  Keep  away  from 
Pichegru!  He,  like  Dtmiouriez,  is  an  agent 
of  corruption.  Contact  with  such  men  dis- 
honours you." 

"All  that  I  realise,  but  it  is  too  late  to 
think  of  it.  My  time  for  precaution  is  past; 
it  is  the  future  that  I  have  to  deal  with.  I 
went  of  my  free  will  to  meet  those  men;  I  shall 
be  accused  of  conniving  with  them." 

"That  cannot  be  denied,"  said  the  secretary. 
"You  have  given  your  enemies  their  opportun- 
ity ;  they  will  imite  to  ruin  you  when  the  time 


198  The  Eagle's  Talon 

comes  to  punish  the  conspirators.  If  yotir 
amicable  relations  with  the  Royalists  are 
known,  yotir  complicity  will  be  established  as 
a  fact, — ^and  who  knows  that  the  consular 
spies  have  not  already  informed  Bonaparte  of 
everything !  They  are  everywhere.  General, 
you  have  been  imprudent!" 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"You  have  one  means  of  proving  that  you 
are  not  in  sympathy  with  the  project  of 
assassination." 

"And  that  is  .  .  .  ?" 

"You  must  warn  the  Consul  of  his  danger." 

An  indignant  flush  reddened  the  soldier's 
face. 

*  *  What  ?  Denoimce  them  after  I  have  given 
them  my  word?" 

"  Denounce  them?  No!  Make  their  plans 
harmless." 

"  To  me  to  do  a  thing  of  that  kind  is  impos- 
sible— ^and  even  if  I  woiild,  I  could  not.  I 
have  no  knowledge  of  their  plans." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Fresnidres.  ''You 
risked  your  life  and  your  reputation  to  meet 
men  of  whose  plans  you  knew  nothing?  This 
is  incredible  1  You  must  not  delay  one  instant. 
If  you  will  not  warn  the  Consul,  give  Duroc  a 
vague  idea  of  their  danger." 


In  Readiness  199 

"I  cannot  do  it." 

"Then,  General,  you  must  get  away." 

"Where  can  I  go?" 

"  To  no  land  where  you  fought  battles.  Go 
to  Switzerland;  there  you  can  await  events." 

"I  will  go.  But  I  will  not  run  away.  I 
must  announce  my  departtire  and  take  leave 
of  my  friends." 

Bending  over  his  desk  and  avoiding  the  in- 
tent gaze  of  his  chief,  Fresni^res  said  earnestly: 

"Do  not  hesitate,  General,  your  reputation 
is  at  stake." 

"I  will  announce  my  intention  to  leave  the 
country.  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  conspiring 
if  it  is  known  that  I  am  going  to  leave  France." 

"You  will  not  listen  to  me,"  Fresnidres 
said.  "Ask  General  Li^bert  to  give  you  his 
opinion." 

"I  know  his  opinion.  He  has  urged  me  to 
go  away.  ...  I  will  go.  ...  I  must  go! 
But  how  can  I  explain  my  conduct  to  my 
own  household?  .  .  .  My  wife  .  .  .  and 
Mme.  H61ot — ^what  will  they  say?" 

"They  love  you  too  well  to  permit  you  to 
risk  your  life  and  your  good  name." 

"They  are  so  proud  of  me;  they  expect  so 
much!  All  my  lieutenants  are  at  the  heads 
of  armies.     I   am  nothing!     And  yet  what 


200  The  Eagle's  Talon 

would  have  become  of  Bonaparte  had  I  not 
saved  the  army  after  Novi  and  halted  the 
enemy  after  Trebbia?" 

Devoured  by  regret,  smarting  from  un- 
merited punishment,  but  proud  and  loyal, 
he  refused  to  strike  a  blow  at  the  power  of 
his  rival.  And  by  his  attitude  he  assiuned 
the  appearance  of  guilt. 


While  the  conspirators  spun  their  web 
around  the  central  figure,  Bonaparte,  aided 
by  Fouch6,  planned.  Fouch6  had  questioned 
Braconneau.  Braconneau,  despite  his  keen 
scent  and  his  indefatigable  activity,  had  failed 
to  find  a  trace  of  Cadoudal.  The  presence  of 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor  was  proof  that  Cadou- 
dal was  not  far  away.  Detailed  by  Fouche, 
Braconneau  searched  the  city  and  the  suburbs. 
He  watched  the  gambler  at  his  play,  followed 
him,  and  saw  him  enter  the  tall  apartment 
house.  At  times  he  lurked  in  the  shadows, 
and  looking  up  to  the  fifth  floor  of  the  house 
opposite,  saw  the  lovers  close  together  on 
the  balcony  in  the  light  from  the  long  French 
windows.  Under  the  name  of  Laverniere,  in 
the  disguise  of  an  idle  bourgeois,  Braconneau 
haunted  Frascati  and  feigning  uncontrollable 


In  Readiness  201 

respect  and  admiration  for  the  nobility,  he 
ingratiated  himself  with  Crescenti. 

One  day  when  he  stood  beside  the  lucky 
gambler,  watching  the  gold  rising  in  a  little 
pile  before  him,  Crescenti  asked: 

"You  never  play.  Monsieur?"  and  the 
disguised  Braconneau  answered,  "No.  I  am 
nor  rich  enough  to  support  losses,  nor  poor 
enough  to  crave  to  win." 

"You  are  a  philosopher,"  said  Crescenti. 
Their  conversation  ended  there.  "Laver- 
niere"  shadowed  the  Marquis  but  his  surveil- 
lance was  fruitless.  The  Marquis  lived  a  life 
open  to  observation;  he  passed  his  afternoons 
and  evenings  at  Frascati,  and  his  nights  and 
mornings  in  the  Sinclair  apartment  on  the 
fifth  floor  of  the  handsome  white  stone  house 
with  balconies. 

One  evening  Braconneau  arrived  at  Fras- 
cati later  than  was  his  wont ;  and  as  he  passed 
through  the  gardens,  he  saw  a  tall  man  in 
citizen's  dress,  but  unmistabably  a  soldier, 
standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  chestnut  tree, 
talking  to  Crescenti.  Braconneau  stepped 
behind  a  little  kiosk  and  watched  them. 
Their  conference  was  brief.  The  spy  hastened 
toward  the  gate  of  the  garden,  and  as  the  tall 
man  passed  out  on  to  the  boulevard,  shadowed 


202  The  Eagle's  Talon 

him.  The  tall  man  was  Pichegru,  and  two 
hoiirs  later  he  was  under  the  surveillance  of 
two  of  Fouche's  expert  police. 

That  evening  the  Comedie-Frangaise  pre- 
sented Iphigenia  and  little  George  appeared 
to  dazzling  advantage  in  her  tunic  and  peplum 
and  in  her  veils.  Talma  sat  in  the  rotimda 
of  the  theatre,  playing  chess  with  Dazincourt. 
The  men  were  ready  for  the  stage  and  awaiting 
their  call.  Actors  and  actresses  lounged  in 
studied  attitudes,  discussing  the  matters  that 
interested  them.  Talma  and  Dazincourt 
spoke  of  the  amateur  theatricals  at  Versailles, 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  of  her  dullard  husband, 
and  of  Jean  Jacques  and  his  Civil  Contract. 

"Well  do  I  remember!"  said  Dazincourt. 
"Rousseau  laughed  in  the  King's  face.  He 
ought  to  have  controlled  himself;  but  Revolu- 
tion was  in  the  air ;  the  Queen  did  not  respect 
the  King,  and  the  people  did  not  respect 
royalty.  .  .  .  But  that  was  the  time  of  times ! 
Ma  foil  what  memories ! " 

"Memories!"  said  Tahna.  "Yes!  but  as- 
sured comfort  is  a  more  valuable  asset  than 
memories.  Bonaparte  has  given  the  Comedie 
a  fortime  of  late.  We  shall  be  able  to  carry 
on  our  art  without  starving." 

"Talma!  cher  Maitre!''  lisped  Mile.  Jouve. 


At  Frascati. 


In  Readiness  203 

' '  You  never  can  have  needed  anything !  They 
say  that  Bonaparte  pensioned  you  because 
you  taught  him  to  enunciate  properly." 

"Say  rather,"  laughed  Takna,  "that  the 
Consul  remembers  that  I  gave  him  tickets 
when  we  played  Comeille.  Bonaparte  is 
kind;  he  is  very  grateful  to  his  friends.  But 
he  likes  young  actresses  better  than  old  actors. 
Hein,  Dazincourt?" 

Bonaparte  likes  tragedy.     He  understands 
heroes,"  answered  "  Crispin. " 

At  that  instant  a  messenger  entered  and 
whispered  to  Mile.  Raucourt,  who  said  in 
answer: 

"Let  him  wait  in  my  dressing-room." 

The  curtain  rose  and  Raucourt  and  Wem- 
mer  appeared  upon  the  stage.  Twenty  min- 
utes later,  Raucourt  and  Wemmer  foimd 
Constant  waiting  in  Raucourt's  dressing-room. 
Constant  was  a  power.  He  was  known  to 
hold  the  Consul's  secrets;  and  to  him  the 
solicitors  of  favours  turned  after  Josephine 
and  the  ministers  failed  them.  Constant  was 
tactful  and  discreet;  Bonaparte  liked  and 
trusted  him;  servant  and  master  were  of  the 
same  head  and  foot  measurement  and  Con- 
stant broke  in  the  Consul's  hats  and  shoes,  and 
by  doing  so,  acqiiired  the  prestige  attendant 


204  The  Eagle's  Talon 

upon  the  assumption  of  the  wearing  apparel  of 
a  hero. 

He  greeted  the  young  women  with  a  deep 
reverence  and  a  benevolent  smile.  Flushed 
with  the  excitement  of  the  stage,  both  were 
beautiful;  Wemmer,  but  half -clothed,  draped 
in  her  goddess  veils,  and  pale  from  the  emotion 
demanded  by  the  character  of  Iphigenia,  was 
dazzling.  She  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heavily 
throbbing  heart,  sank  into  a  chair,  and  closed 
her  eyes. 

"£/j,  Hen,  citizen  Constant,"  said  Raucourt. 
"You  have  come  from  the  Constd?" 

"£/j,  oui,  Madame;  General  Bonaparte 
begged  me  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  Mademoiselle 
Wemmer  this  offering,  and  to  ask  when  he  is 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her." 

The  girl  had  heard  nothing  but  the  ques- 
tion. She  opened  her  eyes  and  spoke  with 
vehemence: 

"I  shall  not  go  to  Saint-Cloud,  Versailles, 
or  any  place  where  I  can  create  scandal!  I 
have  had  too  much  of  it." 

Constant  answered:  "Mademoiselle,  the 
Constd  begs  you  to  accept  this  memorial  of 
your  adventure." 

Wemmer  started,  snatched  the  package 
presented  by  the  valet,  opened  it,  and  dis- 


In  Readiness  205 

closed  to  view  a  jewel  case  containing  two 
splendid  solitaire  diamonds. 

"Ah,  Raucourt!"  she  sighed,  exhibiting 
the  jewels .    ' '  For  my  hair ! ' ' 

"An  imperial  gift.  Put  them  on  at  once!" 
said  Raucourt. 

"What?  in  Iphigenia?'' 

"Yes,  the  daughter  of  kings  may  well  wear 
them.     Say  that  Achilles  gave  them  to  you." 

"And  what  does  Achilles  wish?"  the  girl 
asked,  turning  to  Constant. 

"He  wishes  to  see  you.  He  is  looking  for 
a  place  where  it  will  be  safe  to  meet  you. 
When  he  finds  it,  you  will  be  notified.  Will 
you  come?" 

"I  will  come." 

"To  whatever  place  is  chosen?" 

"Who  will  accompany  me?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  I  shall  conduct  you  to  and  from  the  place." 

"Citizen  Constant,"  she  said  smiling,  "I 
will  go  with  you  to  any  place  appointed." 

"I  thank  you,  citizen  Wemmer.  And 
now,  ladies,  there  remains  for  me  to  do  nothing 
but  to  offer  my  himiblest  reverence." 

When  the  two  women  were  alone,  the  elder 
embraced  the  yoimger.  "Promise  me,"  she 
urged,  "that  in  your  glory  you  will  not  forget 
your  Raucourt." 


2o6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  owe  everything  to  you,"  the  girl  an- 
swered.    "I  shall  not  forget  it." 

The  third  act  began  and  the  two  women 
went  upon  the  stage. 


In  the  rue  Cartoe-Prenant  the  Chouans 
awaited  with  impatience  information  concern- 
ing the  Consul's  meeting  with  little  Wemmer. 

Coster  de  Saint- Victor,  who  would  hear 
the  news  at  once  from  the  lips  of  Wemmer' s 
friend  Sinclair,  had  promised  to  inform  Cadou- 
dal  through  Taillard.  Taillard,  disguised  as 
a  bootblack,  sat  all  day  at  the  comer  of  the 
rue  Saint-Antoine,  blacking  the  shoes  of  the 
passing  people.  He  liked  to  blacken  shoes 
better  than  to  stifle  in  the  close  air  of  Cadou- 
dal's  hiding-place.     Cadoudal  envied  him. 

"Ah,  Taillard,"  said  Cadoudal,  when  Brise- 
Bleu  entered  wet  and  grimy,  "you  can  breathe 
fresh  air  and  sit  in  the  wind  and  rain !  I  would 
take  your  place;  but  to  do  that  would  be  to 
end  everything.  There  is  no  disguise  for  my 
great  head!" 

One  night  Taillard  delivered  a  card  sent  by 
Coster  de  Saint- Victor,  who  had  stopped  at 
TaiUard's  comer  to  have  his  boots  rubbed  with 
oil.     The  Chouan  trembled  with  the  joy  of 


In  Readiness  207 

anticipated  triumph.  The  card  bore  but  few 
words:  ^'Day  after  to-morrow ^  at  nine  o'clock,  at 
Gorgeret's.  Enter  from  the  Champs-Ely  sees. 
"And  now,"  said  Cadoudal,  *'I  can  breathe! 
Within  two  days  I  shall  have  changed  the 
fortunes  of  France,  or  all  will  be  over,  and  I 
shall  be  beyond  the  grave,  and  by  far  better 
off  than  in  an  attic." 


That  night  Picot  set  out  early  in  the  morn- 
ing with  orders  for  Mirelle,  Loiseau,  and 
Burban:  tried  Chouans.  Mirelle  worked  for  a 
plasterer  in  Belleville;  Loiseau  worked  in  the 
horse-market. 

"With  Coster,  Taillard,  and  you,"  Cadoudal 
said  to  Picot,  "there  will  be  six  strong  deter- 
mined men,  armed  with  sabres  and  with 
pistols." 

"General,"  said  Taillard,  "let  us  take  six 
more.  We  .do  not  know  what  may  happen. 
I  will  go  to  Courbevoie  and  simunon  six 
chasseiu-s.  They  shall  giiard  the  doors  while 
we  do  our  work." 

' '  You  reason  well,  * '  said  Cadoudal.  ' '  With 
a  force  like  that  we  could  face  a  squadron  of 
mimicipal  guards." 

While  the  Chouans  laid  their  plans  for  the 


2o8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

ambush,    Bonaparte    planned    the    counter- 
attack. 


"The  Countess,"  said  Duroc  to  the  Consul, 
"has  arranged  everything  with  Gorgeret. 
Gorgeret  himself  made  the  arrangement  with 
the  enemy.  The  Countess  will  pass  for 
Wemmer.  She  will  enter  the  house  by  the 
faubourg  Saint-Honore,  accompanied  either 
by  Constant  or  by  Cacheiix.  I  shall  come  in 
by  the  Champs-Ely  sees.  As  soon  as  we  are 
in  the  house,  Savary  with  forty  picked  gen- 
darmes will  surround  the  house,  and  seize 
Cadoudal  and  his  accomplices  as  they  enter. 
If  the  manoeuvre  is  well  executed,  not  one  of 
them  will  escape.  All  who  resist  will  be 
killed,  all  who  are  taken  will  go  to  the  dun- 
geons of  the  Abbaye.  It  must  not  be  known 
to  the  people  that  an  attempt  has  been  made. 
Meanwhile  you,  General,  will  meet  Wemmer 
at  the  residence  of  Montmoran." 

A  frown  clouded  the  pale  brow  of  the  con- 
queror, and,  with  eyes  darting  fire,  he  con- 
fronted his  young  aide. 

"Your  plan  is  not  frank,"  he  said.  'T  do 
not  like  it.     It  might  have  satisfied  Nero; 


In  Readiness  209 

it  does  not  meet  my  ideas  of  legitimate 
strategy." 

"Act  your  pleasure,  my  dear  Chief,"  Duroc 
answered  stiffly.  "Go  yourself  to  Gorgeret's. 
If  you  fancy  a  death  of  that  kind  it  is  not  for 
me  to  hinder  you." 

"I  appreciate  your  efforts,"  the  Consul 
said  after  a  nervous  attempt  to  conceal  his 
agitation.  "Your  plan  is  repugnant  but 
practical.  I  will  act  according  to  your  judg- 
ment. But  if  the  trap  is  set  in  both  places? 
Fouch6  tells  me  that  the  Countess  works  for 
the  one  who  pays  the  best." 

"The  police  will  guard  Montmoran's  house. 
One  of  Fouch6's  best  men  will  be  near  you 
with  men  enough  to  hold  a  dozen  citadels." 

"Who  is  the  man?" 

"Braconneau." 

"I  know  him.  He  is  the  one  who  caught 
Saint-R6geant.  He  shall  have  a  high  place 
by-and-bye." 

"He  is  the  right  hand  of  the  force.  He 
has  arranged  everything,  disguised  as  Picot. 
Gorgeret  talked  to  him  under  the  impression 
that  he  was  talking  to  Cadoudal's  delegate. 
We  are  drawing  the  net  around  them.  Coster 
de  Saint-Victor  is  shadowed;  so  is  Picot — 
but  where  is  Cadoudal?" 

14 


2IO  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"If  he  has  a  heart  in  his  body,  you  will  see 
him  to-morrow,  sabre  in  hand.  Ah,  why  may 
I  not  be  there  to  fight  him  face  to  face?" 

"  Because  the  well-being  of  France  hangs  on 
yotir  life!"  said  Dtiroc.  "The  Chouans  have 
planned  to  kill  you  at  the  buskined  feet  of  a 
woman.  Is  that  a  reason  why  you  should  not 
die  at  the  head  of  yotir  army?  A  man  of 
your  responsibilities  ought  to  die  like  Caesar, 
not  like  Mark  Antony!" 

'^Enfinf'  said  Bonaparte,  "you  shall  have 
your  way."  The  two  young  men  standing 
side  by  side  looked  out  upon  the  terrace  where 
the  people  passing  up  and  down  gazed  with 
childish  curiosity  at  the  palace  windows. 
Bonaparte  spoke.  "This  episode  is  humiliat- 
ing and  distressing.  But  in  it  I  have  foiuid 
one  grain  of  consolation:  Moreau's  name  has 
not  been  heard.  He  has  broken  with  the 
Royalists." 

"He  has;  because  they  are  working  for  the 
King ;  or  to  speak  better,  because  they  are  not 
working  for  Moreau.  On  either  side  an  effort 
was  made  to  obtain  chestnuts  by  means  of 
cat's-paws.  Both  parties  looked  with  favour 
upon  your  removal,  but  they  could  not  agree 
as  to  your  successor." 

"The  parties  would  align  the  day  after  my 


In  Readiness  211 

death;  the  Jacobins  with  Moreau  would  make 
efforts  to  establish  a  dictatorship.  The  Royal- 
ists would  acclaim  Louis  XVIII.  The  jimior 
branch  would  show  its  ambitions.  I  can 
harmonise  all  that  if  I  live." 

"  By  proclaiming  the  Empire?  ** 

"By  answering  the  people's  wishes  for  the 
people's  good." 

When  Virginie  Sinclair  returned  to  her 
apartment  after  her  daily  interview  with 
Raucourt  and  George  Wemmer,  Crescenti  had 
cast  off  his  brown  wig  and  freed  his  fair  hair. 
The  lights  were  low,  and  the  sweet  night  wind 
stirred  the  lace  curtains,  and  played  with  the 
leaves  of  the  tea  roses  massed  in  the  four 
comers  of  the  room. 

"What  a  life,  Giolo!"  the  girl  murmured, 
taking  his  head  in  her  young  arms.  "A  life 
of  fierce  anxiety!  And  yet  I  am  thankful, 
for  we  are  still  here,  immolested." 

"Poor  little  girl!"  he  said,  returning  her 
caresses.  "I  ought  never  to  have  crossed 
your  path." 

She  broke  away  from  him,  took  off  her 
clinging  empire  sheath,  and  sat  before  him  in 
her  little  petticoat  and  corset,  smiling  like  an 
artless  child. 


212  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"All  day  long,  Giolo  mio,'"  she  said,  "I  have 
run  about  on  your  business." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

"Here  and  there.  Just  now  I  have  come 
from  Wemmer's.  Her  uncle  has  arrived. 
He  is  delighted  with  her  capture  of  the  Consul. 
He  worships  Bonaparte." 

"Did  you  offer  this  place  to  Wemmer?" 

"I  wished  to  because  you  spoke  of  it;  but 
I  was  too  late.  Raucourt  had  arranged 
everything  with  Montmoran.  They  are  to 
meet  at  Gorgeret's,  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Bonaparte  will  enter  from  the  Champs- 
Elysees.     I  fotmd  out  everything!" 

"Little  diplomat!" 

"Not  a  real  one,"  she  answered.  "Only 
for  your  sake!  It  worries  me  for  they  may 
hurt  him  without  meaning  to  when  they  seize 
him.  .  .  .  But  I  love  you  so  dearly  that  I 
think  of  nothing  but  your  will.  You  have 
bewitched  me ;  my  heart  shrinks  when  I  think 
of  what  would  become  of  me  if  you  did  not 
love  me." 

"I  shall  always  love  you,  Virginie." 

"You  may  die." 

"  I  am  not  afraid.  I  have  formed  the  habit 
of  danger." 

"What  shall  you  do  if  you  fail?" 


In  Readiness  213 

"Nothing  more.  It  is  too  late.  If  we  fail 
this  time,  we  shall  let  the  country  drift.  The 
King  is  in  Poland.  I  shall  go  to  him,  ask 
leave  of  absence,  and  go  to  my  native  land, 
the  Vendee.  There  I  have  ancestral  property : 
an  old  stone  house,  a  flower  garden,  a  farm 
cut  by  a  river — a  place  lost  between  woods  and 
moors.  I  shall  live  like  a  peasant.  I  shall 
till  my  land  and  himt  and  fish.  And  there, 
forgotten  and  in  peace,  I  shall  end  my 
days." 

"And  where  shall  I  be?" 

"My  dear  little  girl!  You  will  be  with  me 
if  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  give  up 
Paris.  .  .  .  Would  you  do  that?  Could  you 
give  up  the  life  you  love  to  live  with  me  in 
the  silence  of  the  country?" 

"I  care  for  nothing  but  to  be  with  you' 
You  have  no  idea  how  I  long  for  you  when 
I  am  away  from  you!  As  for  that  place 
it  will  be  heaven.  I  shall  be  with  you  in 
the  garden,  I  shall  go  fishing  with  you;  and, 
though  I  shall  not  kill  things,  I  shall  go 
hunting  with  you.  And  in  the  twilight, 
and  in  the  moonlight,  we  shall  go  home 
together  to  the  little  house.  I  shall  be  so 
happy!  Here  I  am  never  happy,  I  am  al- 
ways anxious.     If  you  are  late,  I  am  on  the 


214  The  Eagle's  Talon 

balcony,  watching  .  .  .  fearing  that  they 
have  caught  you." 

'^That  may  happen.  But  I  never  think  of 
it.  My  disguise  is  good.  And  then,  too,  the 
police  force  was  disorganised  when  Fouch6 
was  deposed.  Fouch6  is  diabolical  ...  he 
is  everywhere!  Real  is  a  magistrate;  he  is 
not  fit  for  police  work.     We  do  not  fear  him." 

"And  that,"  said  the  girl,  "is  why  I  am  so 
frightened.  They  will  seize  you  when  you 
least  expect  it," 

He  smiled.  "They  will  have  to  be  quick 
about  it ;  they  have  only  two  days  to  work  in. 
The  day  after  to-morrow  we  work." 

"What  will  happen  if  your  attempt  is 
successful.'*" 

"If  we  succeed  the  King  will  cross  the 
frontier  and  enter  Lille.  The  majority  of  our 
partisans  will  be  there.  At  the  moment  when 
the  King  enters  Lille,  the  Duke  d'Enghien 
will  enter  Alsace,  call  out  the  garrison  of 
Strasbourg,  and  march  on  Nancy.  The  Count 
d'Artois  will  enter  Normandy,  find  troops 
awaiting  him,  and  march  on  Paris.  At  Lyons, 
at  Marseilles,  and  all  through  the  south,  we 
are  ready.     Brittany  will  rise  at  the  first  call." 

"And  you,  Giolo,"  she  asked,  clasping  him 
closer,  "what  will  they  do  for  you?" 


In  Readiness  215 

He  smiled.  "Nothing.  Perhaps  the  King 
may  thank  me.  Possibly  he  will  give  me  a 
place  in  his  guard.  It  may  be  they  will  give 
me  Saint  Loiiis's  Cross.  But  it  makes  no 
difference;  I  am  not  working  for  pay.  It  is 
probable  that  I  shall  get  nothing." 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothing.  They  will  give  something  to 
every  man  who  has  come  to  them  from  the 
other  party.  No  man  will  betray  the  Consul 
for  nothing;  and  every  man  who  has  betrayed 
the  Consul  for  the  benefit  of  the  King  will  be 
paid  by  the  King.  And  when  the  King  has 
paid  all  those  whom  he  has  bought,  what  will 
he  have  left  for  us  who  have  worked  for 
nothing?" 

Her  eyes  dilated.  "And  you  know  all 
that.  .  .  .  You  risk  your  life  for  men  of  that 
stamp?  Ungrateful  princes!  Cowards!  Why 
are  they  not  here  to  stand  with  you  when  you 
die  for  them?" 

He  smiled  into  the  eager  face. 

"We  know  all  that.  But  personal  interests 
do  not  count  if  a  man  has  convictions.  Our 
chief,  Georges  Cadoudal,  stands  face  to  face 
with  death.  After  he  brings  back  the  King 
he  will  be  forgotten;  the  favourites  alone  will 
hold    the   power.     He   knows   it.     But   our 


2i6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

honour  is  at  stake.  We  are  fighting  for  duty, 
not  for  the  hope  of  recompense." 

"You  are  heroes." 

"Not  we!  Our  names  are  known.  Even 
now  we  have  our  halos  of  glory.  The  men  who 
risk  their  lives  to  serve  under  our  orders,  the 
men  who  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  us 
confronting  death — ^Taillard,  Joseph  Picot, 
.  .  .  and  others  like  them,  who  will  not  get 
one  word  of  recognition  from  the  King — they 
are  the  heroes.  The  moorlands  of  Brittany 
are  white  with  the  bones  of  the  men  who  fol- 
lowed the  banners  of  the  Chouannerie.  The 
Chouans  fell  by  thousands,  for  God  and  the 
King.  When  the  Cross  and  the  white  flag 
of  the  Chouannerie  have  been  lifted  from 
the  dust,  the  kings  will  not  do  as  much 
as  raise  a  mommient  on  Breton  earth  to 
remind  them  of  the  men  who  died  for  them. 
The  unknown  living  and  the  forgotten  dead 
are  the  people  for  you  to  pity — ^if  you  can 
pity  strong  men  who  have  been  brave  and 
true." 

She  sat  beside  him  awed  and  silent.  After 
a  while  he  asked : 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking,  darling?" 

"I  am  thinking  of  the  home  where  we  shall 
be  so  happy.     Let  us  go  there  right  away  I 


In  Readiness  217 

I  will  pack    to-night;   I  can  be  ready  to  go 
to-morrow." 

"No,"  he  answered.     "To  do  that  would 
be  to  forsake  my  friends." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TRAPPED 

ATIN^E  o'clock.  The  clocks  in  the  towers 
•*  '  were  striking  the  hour  when  Cadoudal, 
accompanied  by  Taillard  and  by  Picot,  stopped 
before  the  little  door  in  the  wall  that  separated 
Gorgeret's  grounds  from  the  Champs  Elysees. 
Coster,  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree, 
stepped  out  from  the  wall  to  meet  them. 

"Good-evening!"  he  said.  "We  are  just 
in  time.  The  moon  has  gone  beyond  the 
clouds.    It  is  as  dark  as  the  mouth  of  an  oven. ' ' 

"How  many  men  have  you?"  asked 
Cadoudal. 

"Leridan  and  ten  chasseurs  are  in  a  tool- 
house  close  to  the  wall,  near  the  door;  Loiseau 
and  Mirelle  are  in  the  concierge's  lodge  at  the 
gate  opening  on  the  faubourg.  Burban  and 
ten  chasseurs  are  in  the  house.  The  mouse 
trap  is  a  strong  one,  well  set.  No  one  can  get 
out." 

"Let  us  go  in,"  said  Cadoudal. 

They  entered  the  park  and  passed  the  low 

3X8 


Trapped  219 

btdlding  where  Leridan  was  hidden  with  his 
men.  The  place  was  absolutely  still.  Cadou- 
dal  examined  the  wall  of  the  adjoining  pro- 
perty. It  was  of  stone,  seven  feet  high,  and 
covered  with  ancient  vines. 

"The  wall  is  high,"  said  Cadoudal.  "Never- 
theless we  must  take  precautions.  Taillard, 
set  five  men  to  guard  it!" 

Taillard  went  to  the  toolhouse.  Cadoudal 
inspected  the  other  side,  where  the  wall  was  a 
smooth  upright,  ten  feet  high,  with  a  crest 
protection  of  broken  glass  bottles.  Two  of 
Mirelle's  men  were  stationed  to  watch;  and 
Cadoudal,  Picot,  Taillard,  and  thirteen  strap- 
ping Chouans  were  left  for  the  work  in  the 
house.  Gorgeret,  who  had  sent  away  his 
concierge  and  his  servants  for  the  night,  had 
gone  to  Boulogne. 

"I  will  wait  in  the  garden  with  Picot,"  said 
Cadoudal.  "  You,  Coster,  will  wait  at  the  gate 
on  the  faubourg  Saint-Honor6  to  receive  the 
young  lady.  As  soon  as  she  enters,  give  three 
low  whistles.  Bonaparte  will  come  in  from  the 
Champs-Elys6es.  As  soon  as  he  is  in,  whistle 
four  times.  His  entrance  will  give  us  otir 
signal. 

Coster  went  over  toward  the  wall.  His  men 
with  Mirelle  were  to  guard  the  wall  of  the 


220  The  Eagle's  Talon 

adjoining  property.  As  he  went  along,  he 
thought  of  all  the  arrangements  made  and  of 
all  the  work  to  be  done  in  the  name  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  and  for  the  King. 

Mirelle  received  his  orders  and  went  away 
in  silence,  in  the  direction  of  the  great  wall 
which  separated  the  grounds  of  the  h6tel  de 
Montbazon  from  the  property  of  the  famous 
gastronomer,  Grimod  de  la  Reyniere.  Alone 
in  the  gate-keeper's  lodge,  Coster  put  on  the 
livery  of  the  concierge,pnt  his  sabre  in  a  comer, 
and  sat  down  between  the  great  ears  of  an 
easy  chair.  The  hour  fixed  for  Wemmer's 
arrival  had  not  come  when  a  loud  rap 
sounded  on  the  door  opening  on  the  street. 
Armed  with  pistols,  Coster  opened  the  door. 
A  woman,  heavily  veiled  over  her  deep  cowl- 
like hood,  stood  at  the  door,  attended  by  a 
man  in  the  dress  of  a  bourgeois. 

"Citizen  Gorgeret's?"  asked  the  man. 

"Enter,"  answered  Coster.  "You  are  ex- 
pected." He  closed  and  locked  the  door  and 
preceding  his  guests,  said  respectfully,  "I 
will  conduct  you." 

As  he  spoke,  the  moon  came  from  between 
two  shadowy  cloud-masses  and  Coster  re- 
cognised in  the  man  Constant,  the  confiden- 
tial valet  of  the  Consul.     Opening  the  great 


Trapped  221 

stained-glass  door  of  the  vestibule,  he  took 
one  of  the  lighted  candelabra  from  the  stand, 
and  went  up  the  broad  stairway,  followed  by 
the  visitors.  On  the  first  landing  he  turned. 
"Monsieur  and  Madame,"  he  said,  "this  is 
the  salon.  Please  enter  and  be  seated.  I 
have  left  my  lodge  unguarded.  I  will  return 
to  it." 

"  Do  so,"  said  the  woman. 

Startled  by  the  soimd  of  her  voice,  Coster 
raised  his  eyes.  The  face  of  the  visitor  was 
hidden  by  the  cowl,  and  over  the  cowl  himg 
the  heavy  lace  of  a  black  veil. 

'T  know  that  voice,"  thought  Saint-Victor. 
"It  is  not  the  voice  of  Wemmer." 

When  he  had  given  the  light  to  the  valet 
and  closed  the  door,  the  instinct  of  danger 
warned  him  to  look  about  him.  The  door  of 
the  room  next  to  the  salon  was  open;  the 
moon,  sailing  in  a  cloudy  sky,  filtered  its  chang- 
ing light  through  the  window  veils  and  fell 
on  the  open  door  of  an  inner  room.  A  line 
of  light  lay  on  the  polished  floor  below  the 
door  between  the  inner  room  and  the  salon. 
Saint- Victor  looked  through  the  keyhole  into 
the  salon.  The  woman  had  seated  herself 
and  put  off  her  cowl-like  hood.  She  was  not 
Wemmer  but  Montmoran. 


222  The  Eagle's  Talon 

'  Saint-Victor  ran  through  the  rooms,  down 
the  stairs,  and  out  into  the  park.  In  the 
concierge's  lodge  he  changed  his  livery  for  his 
own  garments  and  buckled  on  his  sword. 
The  moon  was  setting  and  the  flowers  massed 
on  the  lawn  lay  grey  and  cold  under  the  heavy 
dew.  Picking  his  way  across  the  lawn,  the 
Chouan  made  his  way  to  Burban. 

''Attention!''  he  said  to  the  startled  man. 
"  The  woman  has  come.  She  is  not  Wemmer, 
but  Montmoran!  We  are  in  a  trap.  Be 
ready.  At  the  first  shot  march  on  the 
house!" 

As  he  spoke  four  shots  announced  the  arrival 
of  Bonaparte.  Hidden  behind  a  tree,  Saint- 
Victor  saw  two  men  in  mantles  cross  the  lawn. 
In  the  shorter  of  the  two  he  recognised  Duroc. 
The  other  resembled  Bonaparte.  Convinced 
that  he  had  not  an  instant  to  lose.  Coster 
hurried  to  Cadoudal. 

"General,"  he  said,  "you  are  in  a  trap. 
Montmoran  is  here.  She  came  heavily  veiled, 
disguised  as  Wemmer.  She  is  in  the  house 
with  the  Consul's  valet.  Duroc,  with  Bona- 
parte, or  a  man  who  resembles  Bonaparte, 
is  on  the  grounds.  In  the  name  of  Heaven, 
get  away!" 

To  this  appeal  Cadoudal  answered  roughly: 


Trapped  223 

"  I  came  here  to  kill  or  to  be  killed.  Stand 
back,  Saint- Victor." 

"For  the  love  of  heaven,  listen  to  me," 
said  Coster.  "We  are  in  a  trap  set  by  Mont- 
moran.  She  us  waiting,  as  she  waited  at 
Hennebont,  to  see  them  take  you !  Duroc  did 
not  come  here  unprotected.  Junot's  grena- 
diers are  not  far  off.  If  you  care  for  the  men 
who  have  served  you  faithfully,  get  away  and 
leave  us  free  to  find  means  to  save  our  lives!" 

"No,"  was  the  dogged  answer.  " I  will  not 
go." 

They  stood  in  the  dim  light  in  the  heavy  air. 
The  time  was  fleeting.  Coster  was  seized  by 
a  feeling  of  deep  discouragement.  His  ap- 
pearance changed;  his  shoulders  drooped,  and 
his  face  assimied  a  look  of  piteous  weakness. 
He  flung  his  arms  aroimd  his  chief;  his  voice 
trembled : 

"To  dally  in  this  place  now  is  stubborn  and 
selfish  obstinacy !  You  owe  it  to  the  men  who 
have  followed  you  in  the  face  of  death  to 
escape  from  the  pit  dug  by  your  enemy!" 

The  elder  man  listened  in  silence.  In  the 
trees  above  their  heads  the  birds  stirred  and 
twittered  in  their  nests. 

Coster  tightened  his  grip. 

"For  your  sake,  because  you  inspired  me 


224  The  Eagle's  Talon 

with  belief  in  the  hierarchy,  I  have  lived  the 
life  of  an  outlaw.  You  were  eloquent.  I 
listened  to  you.  I  loved  you  as  a  father  or  an 
elder  brother.  I  have  wasted  years  in  torpor, 
waiting  for  something  that  never  came.  I 
was  young,  a  boy,  full  of  life,  when  I  came  to 
you.  You  taught  me  to  live  the  life  of  an 
outlaw  that  I  might  aid  in  conquering  a  throne 
for  men  who  revelled  while  my  comrades  died. 
I  have  run  like  a  wolf  through  the  forests. 
I  have  been  the  slave  of  a  dream!  I  have 
obeyed  you  blindly,  like  Picot  and  like  Brise- 
Bleu.  We  have  worked  for  love.  Suffer  us 
not  to  face  the  shame  of  knowing  that  oiu* 
chief  has  died,  caught  in  a  trap,  like  a  wild 
beast!" 

The  bronze  gate  opening  on  the  faubourg 
rang  to  a  heavy  blow,  and  at  the  same  moment 
two  shots  were  fired  across  the  park. 

"You  hear!"  cried  Coster.  "If  you  love 
us,  get  away!  Climb  the  wall! — Up  with  you, 
Picot !     We  must  get  him  over ! " 

Picot  sprang  to  the  wall.  Lank,  sinewy,  of 
drilled  muscular  force,  he  caught  on  the  vines, 
climbed  like  a  cat,  and  standing  on  the  parapet 
stretched  his  arms  toward  the  groimd. 

"Kneel!"  ordered  the  yoimg  Chouan. 
'  *  Brace  yourself ! ' ' 


Trapped  225 

Dropping  on  one  knee,  Picot  stiffened  for 
the  tug.  Coster  bowed  his  back  and  stood 
bending,  a  hand  on  either  knee. 

''Now  there,  General!  For  the  sake  of  the 
men  who  love  you,  and  j or  the  Kingl"" 

Cursing  by  all  the  saints,  Cadoudal  put  his 
foot  on  the  bowed  back  and  by  his  own  labori- 
ous effort,  and  by  the  assistance  of  Picot, 
climbed  the  wall  and  disappeared. 

"And  now,  mordieuV  swore  Coster,  "I 
can  play!"  and  drawing  his  sabre,  he  ran 
across  the  lawns.  When  he  reached  the 
house,  Burban  and  his  men  were  in  the  great 
lower  hall.  Duroc  was  there  with  Cacheux, 
the  man  who  had  entered  disguised  as  Bona- 
parte. They  had  done  good  work  for  their 
service.  Burban,  his  cheek  slashed  from  eye 
to  chin,  lay  face  downward  on  the  marble 
pavement. 

Running  in  from  the  sweet  air  of  the  chill 
night.  Saint- Victor  saw  through  the  thick 
smoke  of  powder,  Cacheux  loading  his  pistols; 
he  saw  the  dying  and  the  dead,  and  Mont- 
moran,  an  evil  smile  upon  her  handsome  face, 
leaning  over  the  balustrade  and  holding  in 
space  the  candelabra  that  Coster  had  given 
to  Constant. 

"Stop!"  she  called  to  Cacheux.  "Do  not 
15 


226  The  Eagle's  Talon 

kill  him.  Take  him  alive!  That  is  Coster 
de  Saint-Victor!" 

Cacheux  took  a  step  forward.  Braconneau, 
entering  at  that  moment,  hid  a  smile.  Ca- 
cheux was  too  late.  The  men  of  the  Consul's 
guard  heard  the  strange  cry  of  the  screech- 
owl,  and  led  by  Saint-Victor,  the  Chouans 
passed  over  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  ran 
like  deer,  as  Savary  and  his  cavalry  clattered 
down  the  stony  street  and  trotted  up  the  drive 
to  the  door.  Between  the  gateway  and  the 
door  on  the  drive,  Savary  had  received  a 
sword  thrust.  He  saluted.  Duroc  returned 
his  salute  with  a  grim  smile.  Braconneau 
saluted  the  discomfited  Colonel  and  asked 
Duroc  to  give  orders  to  surround  the  house 
from  the  fauburg  to  the  Champs-Elys6es. 

"And  now,"  said  Duroc  to  Braconneau, 
"your  work  begins." 

Cacheux  wiped  the  blood  from  his  sword. 
He  gave  orders  to  his  men,  strode  over  the 
dead,  and  went  out  into  the  perfumed  night. 

Save  for  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  the  place 
was  clear.  The  Countess  de  Montmoran 
was  alone  with  the  detective.  The  candles 
burned  dim  through  the  thick  smoke;  four 
men  lay  face  downward  on  the  marble  floor. 

"This  place  is  horrible,"  said  Braconneau. 


Trapped  227 

**I  must  stay  here;  I  am  in  charge;  but  you, 
Madame,  should  return  to  the  hdtel  de  Fuisse. 
The  air  is  foul ;  the  scent  of  blood  is  sickening." 

*T  will  go;  but  first  let  us  count  the  costs." 

"Of  what  use?  The  scheme  has  failed. 
They  have  worked  too  late;  the  Government 
rests  on  a  firm  basis.  They  will  understand  it ; 
they  will  renounce  their  hopes  and  their 
efforts,  and  the  Consul  will  be  free  to  carry 
on  his  work  of  peace." 

"Cadoudal  cannot  have  escaped,"  the 
woman  answered.  "He  must  be  here  now! 
Get  a  lantern;  we  must  search  for  him!" 

Leaving  the  scene  of  blood,  Braconneau 
went  away.  After  a  few  minutes  he  returned 
with  a  lantern,  and  accompanied  by  the 
Countess,  followed  the  limits  of  the  park, 
close  to  the  wall,  throwing  light  on  the  vines 
strung  with  spiders'  webs  and  glittering  with 
dew.  Suddenly  he  halted  and  cast  the  light 
along  the  wall  to  the  parapet. 

"He  passed  over  the  wall  right  here,"  he 
said.     "He  is  heavy;  he  left  his  mark." 

They  neared  the  tool -house.  The  door 
opened  by  the  Chouans  when  the  fight  began 
had  not  been  closed.  Impelled  by  the  im- 
pulse to  search,  Braconneau  raised  his  lantern 
and  looked  in  on  the  piled-up  d6bris. 


228  The  Eagle's  Talon 

''Eh,  /d/"  he  called  to  a  heaving  mass  not 
far  from  the  door.     "Do  not  stir  or  I  shoot!" 

Taillard,  wounded  by  a  sabre  thrust,  had 
dragged  his  bleeding  body  to  the  wall ;  and  he 
lay  there,  braced  on  his  elbow,  covering  his 
wound  with  his  hand.  Montmoran  greeted 
him  with  a  cry  of  furious  joy  and  with  a  fren- 
zied, dancing  movement  of  her  feet.  She 
gripped  Braconneau's  arm. 

"Force  him  to  give  information,"  she  said. 
"Torture  him!" 

"Where  is  your  chief?"  asked  Braconneau. 

Haggard,  his  face  livid,  Taillard  stared. 

"Where  is  Cadoudal?"  the  woman  asked. 
"He  came  into  the  park;  I  saw  him.  Answer 
me,  where  is  he?" 

Taillard  glared  at  her. 

"Answer!"  she  cried  in  a  high,  commanding 
voice.     "Answer  or  I  will  kill  you!" 

Still  staring,  contemptuous  but  silent,  the 
Chouan  gazed  into  her  gleaming  eyes. 

"Give  me  one  of  your  pistols,"  she  said  to 
Braconneau,  "then  go  and  call  your  men. 
Let  them  take  him  and  torture  him." 

Braconneau  gave  her  a  pistol,  set  the  lantern 
on  the  floor,  and  went  to  call  his  men.  The 
Countess  approached  Taillard.  She  spoke 
hurriedly,  in  an  undertone  of  friendly  intimacy : 


Trapped  229 

"We  are  alone,  Brise-Bleu;  no  one  can  hear 
us;  no  one  will  know  what  passes  here.  Tell 
me  where  I  can  find  Cadoudal  and  I  will  help 
you  to  get  to  a  place  where  you  will  be  safe. 
I  have  influence  with  the  Consul.  I  will  give 
you  twenty  thousand  livres  and  send  you  to 
Morbihan!" 

He  was  silent.  She  bent  over  him;  her 
perfumed  hair  brushed  his  face.  His  eyes 
closed.     She  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Tell  me  where  Georges  is  and  I  will  go 
with  you  to  the  Vendue.  No  one  will  know 
where  we  have  gone.  I  have  uncounted  mil- 
lions; and  all  that  I  can  do  I  will  do,  and  all 
that  I  can  give  I  will  give,  if  you  will  tell  me 
where  Georges  is.  Where  was  he  living  yester- 
day? .  .  .  Answer,  Taillard!  Braconneau  will 
return !  we  have  only  one  moment.  Tell  me ! 
To-night  you  shall  be  in  a  comfortable,  safe 
place.  To-morrow  we  can  plan  for  our  journey .  *  * 

He  lay  with  eyes  closed,  silent. 

"In  Hennebont,"  she  whispered,  "you 
would  have  done  anything  for  one  kind  look. 
I  swear  to  you  now,  that  I  will  go  with  you 
and  serve  your  lightest  whim  if  you  will  tell 
me  where  Georges  hides." 

"Begone!"  he  groaned.  "You  shall  not 
.  .  .  tempt  me.  .  .  ." 


230  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Pressing  still  closer,  she  smiled  and  mur- 
mured, "Will  you  not  tell  me?" 

' '  I  would  die — ' '  His  voice  failed ;  his  head 
drooped  and  he  lay  as  one  dead. 

^' Die  then!''  she  said;  and  tearing  a  handful 
of  straw  from  one  of  the  cases,  she  thrust  it 
into  the  fire  of  the  lantern,  passed  it  blazing 
under  the  ends  of  the  dry  wood,  under  the 
edges  of  the  painted  boxes  and  the  straw  mats, 
ran  out,  and  closed  and  locked  the  door.  The 
room  smoked  and  flames  burst  out  on  every 
side.  A  cry,  agonised,  inarticulate,  like  the 
cry  of  a  tortured  beast,  sounded  from  the 
roaring  fire.  Braconneau  was  returning,  with 
his  men.  The  Countess  ran  to  meet  him.  'T 
have  escaped  with  my  life ! ' '  she  panted.  * '  He 
tried  to  kill  me.  In  his  blind  fury  he  over- 
turned the  lantern  and  set  everything  afire. 
He  has  fainted." 

Braconneau's  keen  eyes  searched  her  face. 

"The  men  are  here,"  he  said.  "We  must 
get  him  out.  We  cannot  let  him  burn  to 
death." 

"Citizen,"  she  answered  coldly,  "you  are 
under  my  orders.  You  were  sent  here  by 
order  of  the  Consul.  Your  duty  is  to  obey. 
Yotu-  conduct  is  sentimental  and  untimely. 
The  wretch  came  here  to  kill  the  Consul. 


Trapped  231 

He  must  die  to-morrow.     What  matters  it 
if  he  dies  to-night?" 

Powerless,  forced  to  obey,  Braconneau 
ordered  the  men  to  return  to  their  post.  He 
stood  in  the  Hght  of  the  burning  building, 
watched  by  the  Coimtess.  The  Chouan  lay 
face  to  the  wall.  The  thick  wool  of  his 
clothes  burned  slowly.  From  his  shoulders 
to  his  feet  isolated  tongues  of  flame  danced 
like  glowworms.  The  roof  fell  in;  a  shower 
of  sparks  flew  upward.  The  Ught  on  the 
sky  died. 

The  morning  after  the  fruitless  attempt 
made  by  Cadoudal,  Fouche  called  upon  the 
Consul.     Bonaparte  was  in  excellent  humoui. 

"Well,  citizen,"  he  asked,  "you  heard  of 
the  attempt  made  by  Cadoudal?" 

"Yes,"  Fouche  answered,  "I  have  brought 
a  summary  of  the  report  made  by  my  men 
at  midnight."  He  fixed  his  half -closed  eyes 
on  the  Consul. 

"At  nine  o'clock  last  night  the  Chouans 
made  an  attempt  to  seize  you  in  a  house 
opening  on  the  Champs-Elys6es  and  on  the 
faubourg  Saint-Honor6 ;  a  house  owned  by 
Gorgeret,  the  man  who  maintains  Montmoran, 
the  woman  who  has  visited  you,  General." 


232  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"Well?"  asked  the  Consul. 

"  Montmoran  set  a  trap.  Cadoudal  and  his 
lieutenant  entered  the  h6tel,  expecting  to 
meet  you.     You,  General,  were  elsewhere." 

"Where  was  I,  Fouche?"  Bonaparte  asked 
with  mischievous  familiarity. 

"You  were  in  the  Chauss6e  d'Antin,"  the 
ex-minister  answered.  "In  the  residential 
h6tel  de  Fuiss6,  with " 

''Halte  /a/"  laughed  the  Consul.  "I  see 
that  you  are  well  informed.  Real  will  be  here 
shortly.  I  shall  see  if  he  knows  as  much. 
Have  you  anything  to  tell  me?" 

"Corporal  Taillard,  known  as  Brise-Bleu, 
alias  the  Whirlwind  of  Death,  and  Joseph 
Picot,  a  noted  Breton  of  the  Chouannerie, 
entered  the  trap  with  Cadoudal,  Saint- Victor, 
Leridan,  Mirelle,  and  between  twelve  and 
twenty  Chouans.  Taillard,  Roux,  and  Mazel- 
li^re  are  dead.  Leridan,  Mirelle,  and  a  dozen 
Chouans  escaped.  Some  one — Coster  prob- 
ably— ^warned  Cadoudal  at  the  outset.  Savary 
received  a  master  sabre  cut  as  he  rode  up  to 
the  door." 

"Ah!"  said  Bonaparte  with  enthusiasm, 
"Savary  is  devoted  to  me!" 

"To  be  devoted  is  one  thing,  to  be  useful 
is  another,"  said  Fouch6. 


Trapped  233 

Bonaparte,  his  arms  behind  his  back,  paced 
the  floor,  passing  and  repassing  Fouche,  who, 
according  to  habit,  stood  throughout  his  in- 
terview. 

"And,"  asked  Bonaparte,  "what  do  the 
people  of  Paris  say?" 

"  Nothing  is  known.  Revolution  has  habit- 
uated Paris  to  clamours.  The  people  in  the 
neighbourhood  heard  shots,  but  they  often 
hear  them.  On  the  side  of  the  Champs- 
Elys6es  nothing  was  heard.  A  low  tool-shed 
burned,  but  the  high  wall  hid  the  fire.  And 
now.  General,  what  I  came  to  say  is  this: 
We  must  give  Cadotcdal  his  quietus.  That  man 
and  his  followers  are  a  permanent  menace  to 
the  public  peace,  and  a  source  of  danger 
to  you.  Last  night  they  failed  in  their 
attempt  to  kill  you.  Their  next  attempt 
may  be  successful.  You  must  get  rid  of 
them." 

Bonaparte  smiled.  His  eyes  rested  on  the 
melancholy  face  of  the  ex-minister  and  he 
answered : 

"I  do  not  like  blood;  but  from  a  political 
point  of  view,  you  are  right.  How  can  I  get 
rid  of  them?  As  you  saw  last  night,  it  is  not 
easy." 

"I  am  not  the  master  of  the  power." 


234  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"That  means  that  you  could  take  the 
Chouans?" 

'T  took  vSaint  Regeant." 

"You  did.  You  rendered  inestimable  ser- 
vice." 

"And  now  I  am  nothing;  another  man  is  in 
my  place,  and  people  who  hate  me  and  who 
blunder,  police  Paris.  Order  your  aides-de- 
camp to  attend  to  your  military  business; 
let  your  State  Counsellors  plan  your  laws; 
and  let  the  police  keep  the  public  order." 

"In  other  words,  let  Fouche  keep  the  public 
order.  Well,  citizen,  you  shall.  I  give  you 
my  word:  I  will  restore  you  to  office.  But  we 
must  not  wound  Real.  He  has  done  his  best. 
Be  patient.  As  soon  as  I  can  manage  it,  you 
shall  hear  from  me.  Meanwhile  try  to  take 
Cadoudal." 

As  Fouch6  took  leave  of  Bonaparte,  Duroc 
entered  and  at  the  same  moment  Roustam 
came  into  the  room,  bringing  a  server  with 
plates,  glasses,  and  knives  and  forks.  Bona- 
parte, when  free  from  care,  received  his 
ministers  in  his  private  apartment  and  Fouche 
had  been  taken  to  the  breakfast  room.  Bona- 
parte, standing  where  Fouch6  had  taken 
leave  of  him,  turned  suddenly  and  gazing 
steadily  into  the  bright   young    eyes    fixed 


Trapped  235 

on  his  face  with  affectionate  interest,  he 
asked: 

"Did  you  see  her,  Duroc?" 

"I  saw  her;  yes." 

"What  does  she  think  of  me?" 

"She  likes  you;  her  most  ardent  wish  is  to 
see  you  soon." 

Moving  to  the  tune  of  a  slow  march,  seen 
at  intervals  between  the  trees  on  the  border 
of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  hussars,  a  white- 
trimmed  blue-grey  line,  returning  from  drill 
on  the  field  below  the  mountain,  defiled  before 
the  eyes  of  the  two  generals.  Bonaparte 
started,  paled,  plucked  his  sleeve,  and  said  as 
if  issuing  an  order:  ''Make  ready  to  leave 
Paris  at  once!  I  shall  go  to  Pont-de-Brique. 
I  will  review  Ney's  troops.  Then  I  must  see 
what  the  English  are  doing.  R^al  tells  me 
that  their  ships  are  in  line  from  Havre  to 
Calais.  They  are  bold;  they  go  to  the  limit. 
They  insult  our  ports  and  fire  on  our  villages." 
Duroc's  face  clouded.  "It  will  end  in  war 
on  the  Rhine,  as  always.  But  English  volun- 
teer enterprises  mean  nothing  but  defence. 
The  English  expect  punishment  because  they 
know  that  they  deserve  it.  That  amounts 
to  nothing.  What  I  fear  is  Austria.  She  may 
make  some  move  that  I  cannot  ignore.     If 


236  The  Eagle's  Talon 

she  forces  me  to  do  it,  I  shall  take  Vienna.  I 
can  whip  England  over  the  back  of  Francis- 
Joseph." 

Josephine,  followed  by  Hortense,  had  come 
in  to  breakfast.  Bonaparte  greeted  them 
with  smiles: 

"£/t,  bien,  my  kind  Josephine,"  he  said, 
"did  you  sleep  well  last  night?  And  you, 
little  muse,  did  you  practise  your  music 
lesson?  "  He  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over 
the  girl's  cheek  and  hummed  in  a  thin  falsetto 
full  of  discords: 

"Tra,  la,  la!  Tra,  la,  la! 
Vous  me  quittez  pour  voler  k  la  guerre, 
Mon  coeur  te  suivra." 

He  dnmimed  rapidly  on  the  table  with  his 
finger-tips,  sat  down  to  his  breakfast,  placed 
a  spoonful  of  ever3rthing  on  the  table  on  his 
plate,  and  stirred  and  tasted  one  little  heap 
after  the  other.  Josephine,  always  amiable 
and  anxious  to  please,  sat  silent,  watching 
him,  studying  his  face. 

"You  worked  very  late,"  she  said  at  last. 

"Very  late." 

"You  were  pacing  the  floor  at  daybreak." 

He  frowned.  "1  do  not  like  surveillance," 
he  said.     "Night  is  my  working-time.     For 


Josephine,  always  amiable  and  anxious  to  please,  sat  silent, 
watching  him." 


Trapped  237 

you,  who  ought  to  be  fresh  and  rosy  in  the 
morning,  night  is  the  time  for  sleep." 

"Bien,    mon    ami!''    Josephine    answered 
obediently. 


Braconneau  had  omitted  the  details  of 
Taillard's  death  as  matters  of  no  interest  to 
Fouche.  He  knew  that  facts  of  private  life, 
however  important  as  the  work  of  individual 
energy,  were  not  important  when  compared 
to  the  question  of  the  public  order.  Fouch6 
knew  that  Montmoran  had  assisted  Bracon- 
neau to  set  the  trap  in  Gorgeret's  house.  He 
knew  that  the  tie  of  imdying  and  desperate 
hatred  boimd  Montmoran  to  the  Chouans. 
He  knew  nothing  more.  But  Braconneau 
did  not  hide  the  fact  that,  as  he  believed, 
Coster  de  Saint- Victor  had  exposed  the  plot 
and  ruined  the  plan  to  seize  Cadoudal. 
Braconneau  knew  that  a  deadly  act  of  revenge 
must  follow.  The  Choimns  would  kill  the 
Countess.  But  who  would  be  the  one  to  strike 
the  blow?  Montmoran  must  hide.  She  must 
not  be  permitted  to  remain  one  night  in  her 
house  in  the  rue  de  la  Chauss^e  d'Antin.  To 
lodge  her  at  Gorgeret's  would  be  to  doom 
Gorgeret  to  sudden  death.    The  spy  deter- 


238  The  Eagle's  Talon 

mined  to  hide  the  Countess  in  the  heart  of 
Paris,  in  the  best-known  resort  of  the  world  of 
fashion:  the  dressmaking  and  millinery  estab- 
lishment at  the  sign  of  the  Blue  Bonnet. 

When  Braconneau  arrived  at  Lerebourg's 
the  saleswoman  was  in  the  shop,  but  as  she 
had  seen  the  spy  only  in  his  disguise  as  a 
dandy,  in  cavalier's  velvet  and  laces  and 
powdered  wig,  she  did  not  recognise  him. 
He  went  up  the  little  stairs  and  greeted  his 
friend  with  a  pronoimced  Provengal  accent 
and  in  a  singing,  southern  voice: 

''Eh,  he!  Lerebourg!     May  I  come  in?" 

"You  here,  Braconneau?"  said  the  dress- 
maker. "And  at  this  hour.  What  has 
happened?" 

"Enough!  I  have  come  on  a  delicate 
errand.  I  have  a  favour  to  ask.  If  you 
grant  it,  you  may  lose  your  life." 

Lerebourg  laughed.  "A  matter  of  vast 
importance  to  the  world,  ma  foil  Speak,  ask 
your  favour!" 

"It  is  just  this,"  said  Braconneau.  "I  am 
looking  for  a  hiding-place  for  Montmoran. 
We  know  the  woman;  we  do  not  like  her. 
But  she  is  our  assistant,  and  she  is  in  danger. 
She  has  set  another  trap.  She  is  bent  on  the 
death   of   Cadoudal,    and   the   Chouans   are 


Trapped  239 

looking  for  her.  I  must  get  her  out  of  the 
way.  In  this  house — if  anywhere  in  Paris — 
she  would  be  safe.  Have  you  a  room  vacant 
on  your  top  floor?" 

Lerebourg  paled  but  he  answered  instantly: 
"The  entire  floor  is  free.     No  one  goes  up 
those  stairs.     She  will  be  alone  all  day.    When 
the  house  is  closed  for  the  night,  she  can  cir- 
ctdate  freely.     My  housekeeper  is  old.     She 
is  not  inquisitive ;  she  is  good-natured.     I  will 
introduce  the  viper  as  a  returned  exile." 
* '  Good !     I  will  bring  her  at  dusk,  to-night. ' * 
"So  the  brigands  have  been  at  work?" 
"Yes,  they  were  all  there.     I  have  not  time 
to  tell  you  now.     You  shall  hear  it  later. 
Coster  was  in  evidence,  as  handsome  as  a 
picture  and  as  brave  as  a  lion.     He  gave  the 
owl-hoot." 

"But  what  had  she  to  do  with  it?" 
"Everything!    She  set  a  trap  for  Cadoudal 
and  the  others;  she  killed  Taillard.     If  they 
catch  her,  she  will  die." 

"She  ought  to  have  died  at  Hennebont!" 
"She    will    die    now — when    they    catch 
her." 

"Well,  bring  her.     I  will  do  my  best  to 
protect  her." 

On    the    stairs,    Braconneau    stood    still. 


240  The  Eagle's  Talon 

After  a  moment's   reflection  he  returned  to 
the  office. 

"You  will  not  be  alone  with  her,"  he  said 
to  Lereboiirg.   ' '  I  shall  be  here  to  keep  watch . ' ' 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  HIDING-PLACE  OF  THE  COUNTESS 

I  ATE  in  the  afternoon  of  a  cloudless  day 
'■— '  when  Picot,  seated  on  his  bootblack's 
box,  had  waited  in  vain  for  a  customer,  a 
young  fop,  graceful  and  elegant  despite  his 
affectations,  halted  before  the  bootblack,  hesi- 
tated, twirled  his  cane,  and  crying  in  a  loud 
voice,  with  a  strong  Italian  accent,  that  the 
street  sprinklers  had  combined  to  work  his 
ruin,  placed  his  foot  on  the  blacking  box  and 
ordered  the  bootblack  to  do  his  best.  Picot 
dipped  his  brush  in  varnish,  and  looking  up 
and  down  the  street  to  be  sure  that  no  one 
heard  or  observed  him,  asked,  "What  is  it? 
Have  you  news?" 

"  I  must  see  the  General  at  once,"  the  yoimg 
dandy  answered  in  rapid  French.  "I  dare 
not  go  to  him;  even  now  some  spy  may  be  on 
my  tracks;  and,  in  that  case,  to  go  to  his 
hiding-place  would  be  to  betray  every  one. 
There  is  no  help  for  it;  he  must  come  to  me. 

i6  241 


242  The  Eagle's  Talon 

I  wish  to  suggest  a  change  concerning  the 
nobles." 

"WTiere  can  he  meet  you?" 

"Place  du  Parvis,  opposite  the  great  door 
of  Notre-Dame,  at  ten  o'clock  to-night." 

Picot  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  will  give 
him  your  message;  but  it  is  hardly  likely  that 
he  can  come  while  they  are  there  trembling 
with  fear.  Until  they  are  well  on  the  road 
to  England,  the  General  will  guard  them  as 
a  nurse  guards  a  child." 

The  dandy  smiled.  "What  are  they  afraid 
of?" 

"They  imagine  that  the  Corsican,  eager 
for  revenge,  will  give  orders  to  line  them  up 
and  shoot  them.  As  you  know,  that  could 
be  done  within  twenty-four  hours  from  the 
time  of  arrest." 

"Naturally!  What  are  they  here  for;  did 
they  think  they  were  engaged  in  a  fencing 
bout?  This  struggle  is  unto  death,  and  they 
ought  to  know  it." 

A  man  came  down  the  street.  Picot  bent 
to  his  work  and  ran  his  brush  over  the  foot  of 
his  customer.  The  man  passed  and  Coster 
said: 

"I  must  see  the  General.  If  his  guests  are 
so  timid  that  he  cannot  leave  them,  I  must  go 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  243 

to  him.  Tell  him  that  I  have  business  to 
discuss.  All  hope  is  dead;  this  life  must  end; 
and  before  we  go  we  have  work  to  do.  Tell 
him  that  I  am  looking  for  Montmoran.  I 
may  nm  across  her  at  any  minute.  When  I 
do,  I  want  to  know  what  to  do  with  her." 

''Eh,  Men!''  answered  Picot.  "I  will  tell 
him.  If  he  cannot  come,  I  will  be  on  the 
Place  du  Parvis,  opposite  the  great  door  of 
Notre- Dame,  at  ten  o'clock." 

"i4w  revoiry 

**Au  revoir." 

A  simple  circtimstance  had  dispelled  the 
mystery  with  which  Braconneau  had  siir- 
roimded  the  departure  of  his  fellow-spy  from 
the  rue  de  la  Chauss^e  d'Antin.  When  he 
called  at  the  h6tel  de  Fuiss6  to  conduct 
the  Countess  to  a  place  of  safety,  Gorgeret 
was  in  the  salon.  The  fat  gallant  had  set  out 
to  pay  homage  to  the  woman  he  adored,  in  a 
state  akin  to  hysteria.  Age,  greed,  intrigue, 
dissipation,  and  the  pride  of  his  passion  for 
the  beautiful  and  brilliant  Countess,  had  told 
upon  him;  and  with  a  realisation  of  his  folly 
had  come  a  feeling  of  womanish  weakness,  a 
helpless  longing  to  vent  his  emotion  in  loud 
sobs.     With  eyes  open,  knowing  the  contin- 


244  The  Eagle's  Talon 

gencies  covered  by  his  act,  he  had  lent  his  aid 
to  schemers  against  the  Consul.  He  had  done 
it  influenced  by  the  assurances  of  Pichegru, 
believing  that  the  restoration  of  the  throne 
was  near  at  hand,  that  his  assistance  was  to 
be  instrumental  in  setting  the  King  upon  his 
throne,  and  that  his  work  was  to  be  paid  for 
in  gold,  and  in  honours,  bestowed  by  the  King. 

Habituated  to  profit  by  the  immunity 
attendant  upon  great  wealth,  he  had  worked 
his  will  regardless  of  results.  He  had  never 
been  ptmished.  He  had  pillaged  in  the  wake 
of  victorious  armies,  and  sold  the  cattle  and 
the  flour  stolen  from  the  enemy,  to  the  French, 
and  nothing  had  been  done  to  show  him  that 
he  was  within  the  reach  of  justice.  He  had 
worked  for  the  Royalists  and  against  the 
reigning  power  with  the  same  freedom  with 
which  he  had  fed  the  army  on  questionable 
food. 

When  Braconneau  entered  the  presence  of 
the  Cotintess  as  an  agent  of  the  consular 
police,  when  he  warned  her  that  to  remain  one 
night  under  her  own  roof  would  be  to  court 
death  at  the  hands  of  the  Chasseurs  of  the 
King,  Gorgeret  awoke  to  the  consciousness  of 
his  peril.  His  passion  for  the  woman  whose 
caprices  had  tortured  him  in  all  his  hours  of 


The  Hiding-Place  of  the  Countess  245 

leisure,  was  swallowed  up  by  fear  for  his  per- 
sonal safety.  Bracoimeau's  outspoken  warn- 
ings revealed  to  Gorgeret  the  fact  that  he  had 
entangled  himself  with  outlaws.  He  stood 
in  hiding  behind  the  curtain  of  one  of  the 
long  windows,  peering  into  the  street,  shud- 
dering, and  bemoaning  his  folly,  and  when  he 
saw  the  girlish  figure  of  his  disguised  love  go 
down  the  broad  stairs,  escorted  by  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  consular  police,  powerless 
to  restrain  his  emotion,  he  sank  into  a  chair 
and  wept,  sobbing  in  a  voice  broken  by 
groans. 

Racked  by  anticipations  of  evil,  he  waited 
for  the  all-veiling  night  to  cover  his  flight 
from  the  scene  of  his  folly.  As  he  went 
through  the  twilight  toward  his  home  in  the 
rue  Saint-Honor6,  he  laid  plans  of  escape. 
Diuing  his  hour  of  waiting  in  the  rue  de  la 
Chauss6e  d'Antin,  he  had  decided  to  take 
flight  at  once.  To  reassure  himself  he  thought 
of  the  ease  with  which  he  could  pack  a  few 
necessaries,  bank-notes,  and  gold,  go  to  a  sea- 
port, and  sail  for  some  foreign  land  where  he 
could  await  events.  His  mind  was  clouded; 
he  was  not  sure  who  menaced  his  safety. 
Mopping  his  dripping  face,  brandishing  his 
arms,  and  talking  to  himself  like  a  man  gone 


246  The  Eagle's  Talon 

mad,  he  was  halted  by  the  girl  known  as  the 
widow  Sinclair,  whom  he  had  seen  with  Mont- 
moran.  Terrified  by  the  light  touch  of  her 
hand  upon  his  arm,  he  leaped  backward, 
quivering  in  all  his  flesh;  then,  recognising 
her,  he  seized  her  hands. 

"Ah,  dear  little  friend!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Now  I  can  tell  my  woe!  .  .  .  The  Countess — " 
his  voice  died  and  he  stood  before  the  girl 
pale  and  trembling.  He  had  remembered 
all  too  late  that  Braconneau  had  ordered  him 
to  refrain  from  talk. 

"Well,"  asked  Sinclair.  "What  is  it?  Why 
are  you  so  agitated  and  so  pale?  What  has 
happened?" 

"Nothing!"  he  stammered,  passing  his 
hand  over  his  quivering  mouth.     "Nothing!" 

"Nothing?"  repeated  Sinclair.  "That  is 
not  true!  You  said  poor  Countess!  Why  did 
you  say  that?" 

"She  has  gone  away!" 

^'Voyons,  Gorgeret!"  said  the  girl,  fixing 
her  eyes  upon  his  working  face.  "That  is 
not  a  catastrophe!    She  will  return.  .  .  ." 

"Possibly,  ..."  said  Gorgeret.    "Perhaps." 

"Why  do  you  say  perhaps?''  insisted  Sin- 
clair. ' '  Why  are  you  not  sure  ?  You  know  that 
the  Countess  has  not  gone  far,  do  you  not?" 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  247 

" Helas!"  sighed  Gorgeret.     "Who  knows?" 

"Gorgeret,"  cried  Sinclair.  "You  must 
answer  me!  You  are  like  the  wizard  of  Tivoli 
with  your  probably  and  perhaps!  I  am  her 
friend.  I  am  worthy  of  confidence.  You 
have  no  right  to  treat  me  like  an  enemy. 
You  have  said  too  much  and  too  little! 
Answer  me  at  once.     Where  is  the  Countess?  " 

"Do  not  mention  her  name!"  he  whispered. 
"Her  life  is  in  danger!" 

His  words  startled  Sinclair.  They  aroused 
fear  for  the  lover  who,  like  the  Countess,  was 
in  league  with  schemers. 

"You  must  tell  me,"  she  persisted.  "I 
know  that  she  has  dealings  with  the  Chouans. 
She  has  told  me  so,  more  than  once.  Perhaps 
she  has  told  me  more  than  she  has  told 
you.  Are  you  also  plotting  to  abduct  the 
Consul?" 

A  deadly  terror  seized  him.     He  shuddered. 

"Heaven  forbid!"  he  groaned.  Silent, 
confounded  by  her  revelations,  he  listened; 
while  she,  eager  to  convince  him  that  she 
knew  the  secrets  of  her  friend  the  Coimtess, 
pursued: 

"/  know  all!  They  meant  to  seize  Bona- 
parte in  your  house.  Their  plot  failed.  How 
or  why  it  failed  I  have  not  been  told.     But 


248  The  Eagle's  Talon 

that  it  failed  I  know.  That,  probably,  is  why 
the  Countess  went  away." 

"I  am  going  mad,"  thought  the  unhappy 
man.  "My  trouble  has  turned  my  brain! 
All  that  I  thought  I  heard  I  dreamed.  She 
was  a  Chouan.  I  knew  it;  this  girl  tells  the 
truth!" 

"Yes,"  he  said  to  Sinclair,  "that  was  her 
reason.  But  who  told  you  so  much,  little 
one?" 

"  My  lover,"  she  answered  proudly.  "  He  is 
one  of  them.     He  is  a  chief." 

"Ah?"  said  Gorgeret.    "  Then  I  know  him ! " 

"You  know  him,  probably.  You  do  not 
know  his  name." 

"Ah?" 

"But,"  said  Sinclair,  "we  are  wasting  time. 
Tell  me.  Monsieur,  about  my  poor  Coimtess. 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  her  alone,  afraid, 
perhaps  in  need  of  something  that  she  forgot 
to  take  away.  When  my  friends  are  in 
danger,  I  long  to  be  with  them.  I  will  do 
her  errands,  and  fetch  and  carry  letters.  Is 
she  where  I  can  reach  her?" 

' '  Possibly, ' '  answered  Gorgeret.  * '  Possibly. 
She  is  not  so  far  away." 

"Tell  me  where  she  is  that  I  may  go  to 
her." 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  249 

Gorgeret  lowered  his  voice: 

"She  is  at  the  Blue  Bonnet." 

"  With  LerebourgI  She  will  be  quite  safe. 
Lereboiirg  is  a  Chouan.  She  told  me  that 
one  day  when  I  met  her  at  his  door.  I  shall 
not  go  there  to-night.  The  Consul's  spies 
might  follow  me.  I  am  always  thinking  that 
they  are  watching  me!  But  I  will  go  soon. 
Be  ver}'"  careful,  Gorgeret!  Not  one  word! 
To  tell  the  secret  might  be  to  deliver  her  to 
death." 

"Not  one  word!"  the  man  repeated,  wag- 
ging his  black  curls.     "  Not  one  word!  " 

Gorgeret  went  his  way,  and  Sinclair  re- 
turned to  her  apartment  to  confide  to  her 
lover  the  misfortunes  of  her  friend,  the 
Coimtess.  They  were  together  and  alone. 
Their  doors  were  locked  upon  the  world. 
Perched  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair,  playing 
with  the  light  on  his  shimmering  hair,  and 
tracing  the  little  veins  in  his  pale  temples, 
she  planned  small  pleasurable  surprises  for 
her  sequestered  friend.  And  so  it  happened 
that  less  than  two  hours  after  the  Countess 
moimted  to  her  hiding-place  in  Lerebourg's 
mansarde,  her  secret  was  made  known  to  the 
most  active  of  the  Chouans. 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  Saint- Victor 


250  The  Eagle's  Talon 

bade  adieu  to  Virginie  and  went  out  to  keep 
his  appointment  on  the  Place  du  Parvis. 

In  the  hour  when  the  artless  Virginie  re- 
vealed the  secret  of  the  Blue  Bonnet,  a  man 
sent  by  Braconneau  took  his  stand  at  the 
door  of  Sinclair's  apartment  house  to  watch 
for  Crescenti.  He  arrived  at  his  post  ten 
minutes  after  Saint-Victor  set  out  for  the 
Place  du  Parvis.  The  Chouan  had  taken 
fond  leave  of  the  girl  who  loved  him,  fully- 
determined  not  to  return  until  he  could  do  so 
with  safety.  He  knew  that  the  Royalists' 
plot  to  entrap  the  Consul  had  set  in  operation 
all  the  resources  of  the  police  department, 
and  that  every  detective  valued  either  by 
R6al  or  by  Fouch6  would  be  on  foot,  and  on 
the  watch.  All  concerned  for  the  Royalist 
cause  realised  that  any  attempt  made  by 
Cadoudal  wotdd  be  fatal;  that  Bonaparte 
would  guard  against  imprudence;  and  that 
he  would  not  go  out  of  his  palace  without  a 
strong  escort. 

The  bold  attempt  of  the  Royalists  had 
aroused  the  anxiety  of  Fouch6's  favourite. 
Braconneau  reasoned  that  men  who  had  dared 
to  act  freely  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  in  presence 
of  masterful  police,  and  within  arm's  length 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  251 

of  a  garrison  of  twenty  thousand  men,  would 
not  hesitate  to  retaliate.  He  reasoned  that 
the  Chasseurs  of  the  King  would  be  swift  to 
wreak  vengeance  on  Montmoran.  Having 
installed  the  Countess  in  her  room  in  the 
mansarde  of  Lerebourg's  house,  he  went  to  his 
lodgings,  locked  himself  in  his  dressing-room, 
and  opened  his  wardrobes.  An  hour  later 
he  set  out,  disguised  as  a  dandy.  Under  the 
belt  of  his  wasp  waist  he  carried  a  poniard 
and  two  double-barrelled  pistols. 

Strutting  upon  the  tips  of  his  toes,  humming 
a  love  song,  he  strolled  down  the  rue  Saint 
Antoine,  and  arrived  at  the  Blue  Bonnet  as 
the  shopboy  closed  the  shutters  for  the  night. 
He  hailed  Lerebourg  with  a  gay,  ''Eh,  Men, 
old  fellow,  I  have  come  for  a  night's  lodging. 
I  shall  sleep  right  here,  under  the  mansarde." 

He  arranged  the  pillows  of  the  long  divan 
to  suit  the  curves  of  his  agile  body,  called  for 
a  silken  coverlet  for  use  should  the  night  turn 
cool,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  sat  down  with  Lere- 
boiu-g  to  indulge  in  memories  always  tempting 
to  minds  jaded  by  the  labours  of  a  life  of 
danger. 

Coster  had  asked  for  an  interview  with 
Cadoudal,  prompted  by  the  rumoiu-s  rife  in 
Paris.     Shut  in  the  little  hiding-place,  in  the 


252  The  Eagle's  Talon 

rue  Cartoe-Prenant,  Cadoudal  heard  nothing. 
At  Frascati,  and  as  he  walked  the  streets 
going  from  his  home  and  returning  to  it, 
Coster  had  heard  enough  to  warn  him  of  the 
danger  of  the  Chouans,  and  of  the  keen  scent 
of  Fouche's  bloodhounds.  The  Royalists 
hidden  in  Cadoudal's  lodgings  were  in  terror, 
trembling  for  their  lives,  and  at  any  hour  the 
agents  of  the  consular  police  might  seize 
them.  Fuming  at  the  thought  of  the  coward- 
ice of  the  active  representatives  of  the  cause, 
Saint- Victor  had  determined  to  urge  Cadoudal 
to  send  them  away.  Cadoudal  only  had  the 
right  to  speak;  he  only  could  advise  them  to 
depart  from  Paris,  where  their  timidity  was  a 
perpetual  menace  of  dishonour. 

Saint-Victor  went  on  rapidly  toward  Notre- 
Dame.  The  neighbourhood  was  dark  and 
still.  A  lantern,  swinging  at  the  entrance  of 
the  street,  cast  a  faint  and  flickering  light  on 
the  dusty  road.  Coster  advanced,  keeping  in 
the  shadow  of  the  wall  of  Saint- Jean-le-Rond. 
The  clock  on  the  H6tel-Dieu  struck  the  hour. 
A  man  in  a  workman's  blouse  and  corduroy 
pantaloons  staggered  down  the  street,  ap- 
proached Saint-Victor,  and,  swaying,  asked 
in  the  voice  of  a  drunkard: 

"  £/j,  bel  petit  pere,  how  goes  it?  '* 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  253 

"Picot,"  Saint- Victor  answered.  "He 
would  not  come!" 

"No,  certes.  I  told  you  so!  .  .  .  But  their 
cowardice  is  not  his  only  reason;  they  want 
to  see  you." 

"They  flatter  me!"  railed  Coster. 

"They  are  expecting  you,"  said  Picot. 
"Let  us  be  gone!" 

The  two  men  passed  through  the  qtiarter 
of  the  Marais,  and  reached  the  house  in 
the  rue  Car^me-Prenant.  In  answer  to 
the  Chouan's  knock,  M6rille  opened  the 
door. 

Loiseau  sat  at  a  little  table  on  the  landing, 
at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  stairs.  In  the  room 
opening  on  the  landing,  Leridan,  armed  with 
pistols,  sat  before  a  table.  The  place  was 
well  guarded.  The  close,  wooden  blinds  were 
shut  and  barred.  Not  a  light  could  be  seen 
from  the  street.  Picot  opened  a  door,  and 
followed  by  Saint- Victor,  entered  a  room 
furnished  with  a  table,  chairs,  and  benches. 
In  an  inner  room  Cadoudal,  the  Duke  de 
Riviere,  and  Cotmt  Armand  de  Polignac  sat 
engaged  in  discussing  a  plan  for  the  escape  of 
the  nobles.  The  three  men  looked  up  and 
bowed  their  heads  when  Coster  appeared. 
Cadoudal  motioned  to  Coster  to  be  seated. 


254  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Then  the  conversation,  interrupted  for  an 
instant,  was  resumed. 

"We  can  do  no  more  in  Paris,"  said  de 
Rividre.  "Our  coming  here  was  an  error! 
As  I  see  the  matter,  our  better  way  would  be 
to  go  to  Normandy  at  once.  When  there,  we 
can  await  orders." 

"Still  dreaming  of  the  return  of  the  princes!" 
Cadoudal  said  in  a  tone  of  intense  bitterness. 
"How  many  times  have  they  promised  it? 
At  Quiberon  the  prince  was  in  one  of  the  ships 
of  the  English  fleet.  He  might  have  landed 
and  fought  in  our  ranks.  He  looked  on  while 
Hoche's  grenadiers  killed  his  soldiers;  then 
he  went  back  to  Germany  and  declared  that 
his  heart  was  broken.  A  fine  affair!  The 
grief  of  the  families  of  the  men  who  died  for 
him  was  somewhat  deeper  than  his  heartache ! " 

"General,"  urged  de  Polignac,  "they  are 
our  masters." 

"Bad  masters!  the  King  craves  a  crown,  but 
he  will  not  stoop  to  raise  it  from  the  dust.  He 
is  waiting  for  us  to  pick  it  up  and  put  it  on 
his  head." 

"General!"  exclaimed  de  Riviere. 

Cadoudal  continued  in  a  hard,  imcompro- 
mising  tone: 

"If  they  had  energy  enough  to  displace 


The  Hiding-Place  of  the  Countess  255 

themselves  from  their  beds  of  ease  and  take 
a  look  at  the  man  in  the  Tuileries,  they  might 
learn  something  I  At  Areola  that  one  snatched 
a  flag  from  the  ground  where  a  shot  had  cast 
it,  ran  forward,  and  led  the  march  on  foot. 
There  is  a  man  for  you!** 

"Since  you  like  him  so  well,  why  not  serve 
him?"  de  Riviere  asked  with  a  sotir  smile. 

"Pardir'  answered  Cadoudal  calmly.  "It 
is  not  the  chance  that  I  lack.  He  asked  me 
to.     I  refused." 

"Perhaps  you  regret  your  refusal." 

"Perhaps  I  do.  But  I  am  not  a  man  to 
answer  'yes'  and  'no*  to  the  same  question. 
Our  masters!  Among  all  of  them  there  is  but 
one  who  would  march  with  his  men!" 

"And  who  is  he,  pray?"  asked  de  Riviere. 

"The  son  of  the  Prince  de  Cond6." 

'TAe  Duke  d*Enghien!  Morbleu!  He  is 
not  even  a  politician.  He  is  in  Baden  spin- 
ning the  thread  of  perfect  love  with  Mme.  de 
Rohan;  himting,  fishing,  eating,  drinking,  and 
sleeping!  Truly  a  fine  representative  of  the 
cause!" 

"A  true  Boiirbon,  quoi!"  Cadoudal  said 
with  a  sneer.  "A  fellow  no  better  than  the 
others!  Gentlemen,  we  may  as  well  renounce 
out  efforts!     If  we  get  a  restoration,  it  will 


256  The  Eagle's  Talon 

fall  to  us  from  the  clouds.  Human  beings 
cannot  compass  it." 

"Then  you  have  given  up  the  hope  of 
assistance  from  Pichegru  and  Moreau?" 
asked  de  Polignac. 

"Pichegru  and  Moreau! "exclaimed  Cadou- 
dal.  "They  hate  us.  They  were  ashamed  to 
confer  with  us.  They  liked  Robespierre  better 
than  they  like  us!  Pichegru  is  a  tainted  man. 
Moreau  is  an  ambitious,  timid  fellow  who 
would  eat  larks  if  they  dropped  roasted  into 
his  mouth.  Why  did  he  not  act  on  the  i8th 
Bnunaire?  Because  he  was  afraid  to  act!  He 
suggested  Bonaparte  and  escorted  him  to 
power.  .  .  .  Nothing  can  be  done  with /fiw/ " 

"You  never  liked  him." 

"No.  He  is  two-faced;  a  man  who  pecks 
com  with  the  Chouans  while  he  stalks  like  a 
cock  with  the  Jacobins.  He  will  come  to  a 
bad  end." 

"He  is  there  now,"  said  Polignac.  "When 
a  man  sets  himself  up  as  an  enemy  to  the 
ruling  power,  his  position  is  not  enviable." 

"To  Bonaparte  Moreau  will  always  be  the 
conqueror  of  Hohenlinden''  said  de  Rividre. 
"The  General  Consul  would  clasp  him  to  his 
breast  could  he  get  the  chance." 

"Let  them  go  to  the  end  of  their  rope!" 


The  Hiding-Place  of  the  Countess  257 

said  Cadoudal.  "They  are  nothing  to  us.  I 
have  ceased  to  think  of  them." 

''Eh,  bienr'  said  Polignac.  "The  Duke  and 
I  have  decided  that  it  is  advisable  for  us  to 
depart  from  Paris.  What  do  you  intend  to 
do,  Saint-Victor?  " 

Thus  directly  questioned,  Saint- Victor 
answered: 

"I  have  no  thoughts  connected  with  my 
future  movements.  I  am  under  the  orders  of 
General  Cadoudal.  I  shall  do  what  he  tells 
me  to  do." 

Cadoudal  met  Saint- Victor's  glance  with  a 
look  of  keen  approval.  "Well,  gentlemen," 
he  said,  turning  to  de  Rividre  and  de  Polignac, 
"as  you  can  do  nothing  more  in  Paris,  and  as 
you  have  decided  that  it  will  be  well  to  depart, 
go  back  to  England — if  you  can  get  away. 
That  will  be  hard  to  do ;  the  roads  are  patrolled 
by  poUcemen  and  by  spies.  The  city  is  safer 
than  the  country.  But  try  it;  do  it  if  you 
can!  From  this  hotir  onward,  imless  I  can 
be  useful  to  you,  forget  me;  act  as  if  I  were 
not  on  earth." 

"And  you?"  asked  de  Rividre.  "What 
shall  you  do?" 

"I  shall  settle  the  business  that  I  have  in 
hand,  give  final  orders  to  the  bands,  the  men 


258  The  Eagle's  Talon 

who,  like  Coster,  are  waiting  to  obey  my  orders. 
When  everjrthing  is  done,  we  shall,  if  possible, 
get  away.     I  have  lived  this  life  too  long!" 

"The  Lord  be  with  you  and  the  saints 
protect  you,  wherever  you  may  be!"  said  de 
Riviere. 

"Good  luck  to  you!"  answered  Cadoudal. 

Having  bade  adieu  to  the  company,  de 
Polignac  and  de  Riviere  went  away.  Cadou- 
dal turned  to  Saint- Victor. 

"Men  like  those  dragged  down  the  throne, 
caused  the  Revolution,  and  sent  poor  Louis 
to  the  guillotine!  If  the  monarchy  should 
ever  be  restored,  they,  or  men  like  them, 
would  drag  it  down!" 

"You  are  looking  for  your  trouble  a  long 
way  off,"  laughed  Coster.  "Look  nearer 
home.  I  know  where  Montmoran  is.  What 
do  you  wish  me  to  do  with  her?" 

Cadoudal' s  face  darkened. 

"That  woman's  cupidity  and  deviltry 
caused  our  failure.  She  is  responsible  for  all 
the  blood  shed  at  Hennebont,  and  for  all  who 
died  at  Gorgeret's  .  .  .  Taillard,  Freydidre, 
and  others.  I  ought  to  have  killed  her  at 
Hennebont!" 

"Yes;  but  under  the  circumstances  to  kill 
her  was  not  possible." 


The  Hiding- Place  of  the  Countess  259 

Cadoudal  reddened. 

"It  shall  be  a  lesson!"  he  said.  "I  paid  a 
big  price  for  it,  but  I  shall  not  succumb  again! 
A  man  who  aspires  to  lead  men  should  be 
chaste.    He  has  no  right  to  think  of  women." 

Saint- Victor  drooped  his  eyes.  Cadoudal 
noted  his  emotion. 

"I  am  not  thinking  of  you,  my  boy,"  he 
said.  "You  are  young.  You  have  no  re- 
sponsibilities. You  are  discreet.  I  have  never 
heard  you  mentioned  in  connection  with  any 
woman.  Let  us  talk  of  the  case  in  question. 
The  serpent,  she  who  coolly  planned  the  death 
of  our  comrades — I  must  make  of  her  a 
terrible  example.    She  must  die." 

"And  Gorgeret,  her  lover,  possibly  her 
accomplice,  the  man  introduced  by  Pichegru?" 

"We  have  nothing  to  do  with  him." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Pichegru?" 

"What  I  always  thought!  The  man  who 
had  an  imderstanding  with  Fauche-Borel 
and  Montgaillard  to  deliver  up  Jourdan  and 
the  right  wing  of  the  Army  of  the  Rhine  ?  The 
man  who  delivered  his  troops  to  the  Austrians 
for  massacre?  ...  Of  such  are  the  scoundrels 
with  whom  we  have  dealt  for  the  sake  of 
our  masters.  They  hate  us,  and  our  inter- 
course with  them  leads  us  to  despise  ourselves. 


26o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

We  must  extricate  ourselves  from  all  that 
corruption!" 

"She  must  die?"  asked  Coster,  whose  mind 
was  busy  with  his  deadly  work. 

"Yes.  We  must  avenge  our  dead.  Ar- 
range it  with  Picot.     Will  Picot  be  sufficient?" 

"I  need  no  one  else.  She  is  lodged  in  the 
Blue  Bonnet,  the  house  of  a  merchant  in 
the  rue  Saint-Honore.  She  believes  that  the 
matter  has  been  kept  secret.  We  shall  arrive 
suddenly.  It  will  be  quick  work.  She  is 
weak." 

Cadoudal  scowled.  "She  is  a  fiend!  Be 
prudent!" 

"General,"  Coster  answered  with  a  wistful 
smile,  "we  do  not  like  the  work,  but  we  must 
do  it.  In  a  matter  of  that  kind  a  man  must 
not  be  prudent,  he  must  be  strong.  He  must 
strike,  and  disappear." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  CHOUANS  ACHIEVE  REVENGE 

AFTER  a  short  conference  Picot  went  into 
a  closet  and  brought  out  coils  of  wire, 
a  strong  cord,  locksmith's  nippers,  and  an 
iron  bar.  Then,  having  wished  the  Chouans 
on  guard  a  careless  "good-night,"  the  accom- 
plices passed  out  of  the  house.  The  night  was 
warm  and  very  dark.  Picot  followed  Saint- 
Victor  at  a  distance  of  a  few  yards.  They 
went  down  the  rue  Saint-Antoine,  passed 
Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie,  followed  the  wall 
of  the  old  Louvre,  and  reached  the  Place  du 
Palais-Royal  as  the  clocks  in  the  church - 
towers  struck  the  half -hour. 

Like  all  the  people  of  the  gay  world  of  Paris, 
Saint-Victor  had  visited  the  Blue  Bonnet. 
He  knew  that  the  house  was  Uke  many  houses ; 
that  the  mansarde  could  be  reached  by  the 
servants  stairway,  which  opened  on  the  court- 
yard directly  opposite  the  coach-door.  There 
was  no  concierge.  In  the  mansarde  there  were 
two  windows,  far  apart;  therefore  there  were 

361 


262  The  Eagle's  Talon 

two  rooms.  In  the  square  of  the  Palais-Royal, 
the  Chouans  sat  down  on  a  low  stone  bench, 
to  plan  the  details  of  their  night's  business. 

"This  is  a  thing  that  must  be  done,"  said 
Coster.  "Justice  to  the  General  and  to  the 
dead  demands  it!" 

Picot  muttered,  "Taillard  and  I  fought  side 
by  side.     I  liked  him  well!" 

"There  are  two  rooms  in  the  mansarde.  If 
she  has  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  a  lighted  room, 
our  way  will  be  clear.  If  both  rooms  are 
dark — ^well,  all  that  will  be  known  when  we 
get  there!     Wliat  tools  did  you  bring?" 

"A  cord  strong  enough  to  hang  a  man,  a 
large  silk  handkerchief,  the  gag,  the  wires  I 
have  carried  since  I  left  my  locksmith  shop, 
and  an  iron  bar." 

Coster  shivered.  "This  is  work  for  the 
executioner!"  he  said  after  a  lugubrious 
silence.     "Who  is  to  strike  the  blow?" 

"I,  if  you  will  permit  me,"  said  Picot. 
"Taillard  was  my  friend.  He  would  be  alive 
to-night  had  she  not  led  him  into  a  trap  to  be 
killed  by  the  agents  of  the  Corsican.  Let  me 
kill  her;  it  is  justice." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  responsi- 
bility.    To  kill  a  woman " 

"This  is  not  a  woman,  she  is  a  viper,"  Picot 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge   263 

muttered.  "She  is  as  active  as  a  tiger.  She 
will  defend  herself!  If  she  does  not  kill  me, 
it  will  not  be  her  fault." 

"Let  us  go  on,"  said  Coster. 

Picot  bowed  his  head  and  put  his  hand  to 
his  ear.  "The  patrol  is  coming,"  he  mur- 
mured. The  patrol  passed,  marching  with 
sotmding  tread  in  the  street  beyond  the  square. 
The  Chouans  were  free  to  act.  Lighted  by 
dim  street  lamps  hung  long  distances  apart, 
the  rue  Saint-Honor6  lay  like  an  empty  lane. 
They  went  on  unseen  and  halted  before  the 
coach-door  of  the  Blue  Bonnet. 

When  under  the  hood  of  the  broad  entrance, 
Picot  took  a  roll  of  wire  from  one  of  his  pock- 
ets, bent  it  into  a  hook,  and  worked  at  the 
lock.  After  he  had  made  several  fruitless 
attempts,  the  bolt  of  the  lock  slid  back.  But 
the  door  did  not  open. 

Picot  drew  an  iron  slat  from  under  his  long 
coat,  and  slipping  it  through  a  crack  between 
the  two  folds  of  the  door,  worked  up  and  down 
and  made  a  quick  movement  with  his  wrist. 
A  panel  hidden  in  the  fold  of  the  great  door 
opened.  The  intruders  stepped  over  the  foot- 
brace,  and  swinging  the  panel  back,  but  leav- 
ing it  on  the  latch,  cautiously  crossed  the 
dark  court  and  reached  the  stairs.     There 


264  The  Eagle's  Talon 

they  took  off  their  shoes,  and  put  them  in  their 
pockets.  Silently,  moving  slowly  and  with 
care,  as  stipple  and  as  light  as  cats,  they  went 
up  the  stairs.  When  near  the  landing,  they 
saw  a  line  of  light  under  one  of  the  two  doors. 
In  an  instant  both  men  stood  close  to  the 
light.  Picot  ran  his  locksmith's  pincers  under 
the  hinge,  raised  the  door,  and  swung  it  back. 
Fully  dressed,  lying  on  her  bed,  reading  by 
the  light  of  a  candle  set  upon  the  night  stand, 
the  Countess  heard  the  click  of  metal  and 
dropped  her  book.  Livid,  with  eyes  starting 
from  their  sockets,  she  reached  for  the  pistol 
placed  beside  the  candle  on  the  stand.  A 
cry,  smothered  as  it  rose,  died  in  her  throat. 
Not  a  sound  broke  the  silence  of  the  tragic 
seconds  that  followed.  With  teeth  set  over 
his  lip,  Picot  mastered  the  condemned  woman, 
as  bound  and  gagged  she  strove  against  his 
indomitable  strength. 

.  In  the  room  under  the  mansarde  Bracon- 
neau,  in  the  dress  of  an  elderly  dandy,  lay  on 
the  long  divan.  He  had  persuaded  Lerebourg 
to  go  to  bed.  He  believed  that  on  that  night, 
when  Montmoran's  absence  from  the  house 
in  the  rue  de  la  Chauss6e  d'Antin  could  not 
yet  have  been  noted,  the  woman  would  be  safe. 
He  had  talked  with  Lerebourg  until  the  sound 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge    265 

of  marching  feet  warned  him  of  the  passing  of 
the  patrol.  Then  he  had  stretched  out  upon 
the  divan  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  was  a 
light  sleeper,  and  in  sleep  his  brain  worked. 
He  was  awakened  from  his  sleep  by  an  intui- 
tion. Dimly  conscious  of  the  passage  of 
something  abnormal,  he  arose  and  stood  close 
to  the  door,  listening.  A  pressing  anxiety 
possessed  his  mind,  and  a  strange  tremor 
assailed  his  heart.  At  that  moment  a  board 
in  the  floor  above  his  head  creaked. 

He  ran  through  the  middle  room  to  the  rear 
room  and  looked  through  the  window  up  to 
the  grey  wall  opposite  the  mansarde.  One  of 
the  mansarde  windows  made  a  square  of 
pallid  light  on  the  wall.  In  the  light  square, 
he  saw  the  shadows  of  two  men  in  frenzied 
action.  Without  a  thought  of  Lerebourg, 
asleep  and  unconscious  of  his  peril,  the  spy 
went  into  the  corridor,  ran  up  the  stairs,  and 
stopped.  He  saw  the  door  hanging  by  one 
hinge,  and  the  Countess  lying  on  the  bed, 
gagged,  and  with  legs  and  arms  writhing  in  the 
coils  of  a  slack  rope,  her  eyes  staring.  Picot 
had  thrown  a  stout  rope  over  the  curtain  pole 
above  the  window.  Saint- Victor,  his  hands 
upon  his  hips,  stood  near  him,  watching  him  as 
he  ran  the  rope  through  a  loop  to  form  a  noose. 


266  The  Eagle's  Talon. 

"Stand  back!"  said  Picot.  "Let  me  test 
the  pole." 

As  Braconneau  reached  the  door,  Coster 
turned. 

* '  Laverniere! ' '  he  exclaimed. 

"Coster  de  Saint- Victor,  and  you,  Joseph 
Picot,"  Braconneau  said  calmly,  "I  arrest 
you." 

"Ha,  old  dandy!"  Picot  answered  with  a 
derisive  laugh,  "you  come  just  in  time!"  and 
seizing  the  unused  pistol,  he  pointed  it.  As 
he  pulled  the  trigger,  Saint- Victor,  who  stood 
close  to  him,  pushed  his  arm.  He  faced 
Braconneau  smiling,  challenging  him  by  look 
and  attitude.  Seized  by  the  invincible  emo- 
tion which  acts  as  a  bond  between  loyal  and 
brave  men,  as  well  as  by  his  consciousness  of 
the  folly  of  attacking  the  two  strong  Chouans, 
Braconneau  stood  still.  Saint- Victor  saluted, 
mocking  him  by  the  glance  of  his  clear  eyes. 

"And  now,  Laverniere,"  he  said,  "we  are 
quits.  You  saved  my  life;  I  have  saved 
yours.     When  we  meet  again — look  out!'' 

Braconneau  took  a  step  forward.  Saint- 
Victor  fell  upon  him  with  the  power  of  a  man 
who  has  lived  his  life  in  the  forest  and  on  the 
moors.  With  the  quick  action  of  a  panther 
and  with  the  incalculable  and  crushing  force 


" '  Coster  de  Saint-Victor,  and  you,  Joseph  Picot,'  Braconneau  said 
calmly, '  I  arrest  you.'  " 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge   267 

of  a  bear,  he  folded  the  detective  in  his  arms 
and  cast  him,  half  smothered,  on  the  floor. 
Leaving  Braconneau  stunned,  the  woman 
writhing  in  her  bonds,  and  Picot  with  arms 
akimbo,  Saint-Victor  hurried  from  the  room 
and  ran  down  the  stairs.  Picot  threw  the 
Countess  over  his  strong  back  and  followed 
him. 

The  shot  fired  by  Picot  had  aroused  the 
neighbourhood.  The  people  were  opening 
their  windows  and  looking  into  the  silent 
street.  The  Countess,  lying  gagged  and 
bound  on  the  landing,  saw  the  Chouan  well 
known  to  her  as  Cadoudal's  servitor  and 
constant  companion  put  on  his  shoes,  and 
heard  him  cry  in  Breton  patois: 

''Run!  Draw  him  off  the  scent!  I  will 
stay  here  and  do  my  work!" 

Lerebourg  had  steadied  himself  against  the 
side  post  of  his  door.  As  Picot  descended, 
bearing  the  writhing  woman  and  carrying  the 
rope,  Lerebourg  confronted  him.  Picot 
swung  his  arm.  Lerebourg  fell,  and  Picot, 
striding  over  him,  entered  the  room  and 
closed  and  locked  the  door.  Saint-Victor 
heard  the  key  make  the  double  turn;  he  heard 
the  steady  tramp  of  Picot's  hobnailed  shoes 
on  the  waxed  floor.     An  instant  later  the 


268  The  Eagle's  Talon 

light  fall  of  Braconneau's  boots  sounded  on 
the  stairs. 

Braconneau  had  come  to  his  senses  with 
but  one  thought  in  his  mind :  Fouchel  Fouche 
had  told  him  to  take  the  Chouans.  Coster 
lingered  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  until  Bra- 
conneau, on  his  way  down,  caught  sight  of 
him  as  he  crossed  the  court  and  passed  through 
the  little  door.  When  Braconneau  stepped 
over  the  foot-brace,  Coster  took  to  his  heels. 
Braconneau  gave  chase.  As  he  ran,  his  mind 
righted,  and  he  thought  of  Lereboiu^g  and  of 
the  Countess.  Braconneau  was  there  to 
guard  the  Countess,  but  the  instinct  of  the 
hunter  was  too  strong  to  be  controlled.  The 
impulse  to  return  to  the  defence  of  the  Countess 
was  quelled  by  the  memory  of  the  cries  from 
the  open  windows  of  the  neighbourhood. 

"Those  people  were  awake,"  thought  the 
detective.  "Ere  this  Picot  has  been  secured, 
and  the  Countess  has  been  set  free.  My 
orders  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  Countess. 
All  that  I  did  for  her  was  the  result  of  my 
own  impulses.  The  chief  ordered  me  to  seize 
the  Chouans.  This  is  my  opportunity.  My 
men  have  watched  Sinclair's  house  in  vain. 
The  Chouan  is  too  sharp  to  fall  into  the  trap. 
He  is  right  here  and  I  must  catch  him." 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge   269 

They  had  reached  the  Place  Louis  XV. 
Until  that  moment  Coster  had  run  as  a  horse 
trots.  Suddenly  he  gathered  speed  and  ran 
like  the  wind.  Gifted  by  nature  with  ears 
trained  to  distinguish  sounds  indistinguish- 
able to  men  of  average  hearing,  Braconneau 
hearkened  in  vain  to  catch  the  soimd  of  his 
light  feet.  Coster  seemed  to  run  on  air.  The 
grey  light  that  precedes  the  dawn  covered  the 
earth  with  a  ghostly  veil.  Coster,  who  had 
been  visible  to  Braconneau,  from  the  start, 
ran  into  the  Champs-Elysees  and  sped  onward 
in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  crossed  the  Champs- 
Elys6es,  turned  into  the  Cours  la  Reine,  and 
descended  the  slope.  Standing  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  talus,  Braconneau  saw  the  lithe 
figure  sweep  downward  to  the  river.  His 
official  prowess  was  at  stake ;  but  he  smiled  as 
he  watched  the  swift  course  of  "the  handsome 
boy."  He  saw  the  Chouan  in  the  dim  light 
against  the  river. 

"Can  it  be  possible.?"  he  thought.  "Is  he 
going  to  swim  it?  If  he  takes  to  the  water, 
I  shall  lose  sight  of  him.  The  scamp !  He  has 
escaped  me!" 

Close  to  the  river  Coster  halted.  An 
instant  later  a  fiatboat  shot  out  from  the 
shore.     The   Chouan   leaped  into  it,   seized 


270  The  Eagle's  Talon 

the  oars,  with  furious  pulls  swung  into  the 
stream,  and,  turning,  cried  in  a  voice  that 
shivered  like  splintering  crystal : 

'^Bon  soir,  Lavemi^re,  philosopher!  Re- 
turn to  the  Blue  Bonnet." 

'T  should  have  been  wise  had  I  never  left 
it!"  muttered  Braconneau.  "Triple  sot  that 
I  was  to  let  him  lure  me  away!" 

Arrived  at  the  Blue  Bonnet,  Braconneau  saw 
a  crowd  of  people.  The  panel  door  was  open. 
In  the  salon  on  the  second  floor  Lerebourg  lay 
on  a  divan.  The  old  housekeeper  sat  beside 
him.  Picot  had  disappeared,  leaving  appal- 
ling evidence  of  his  handiwork.  The  Countess 
de  Montmoran,  the  tip  of  her  buskined  feet 
but  a  hand's-breadth  from  the  floor,  hung  like 
a  discarded  garment  on  the  hook  where 
Lerebotirg  had  displayed  costumes. 

Braconneau  cut  the  cord  and  let  the  dead 
woman  glide  to  the  floor.  Then  he  cut  the 
noose  and  freed  the  purple  throat.  Livid, 
grimacing,  her  tongue  hanging,  the  Countess 
de  Montmoran  was  a  hideous  image  of  terror 
and  of  rage.  Her  contracted  fingers,  closed 
by  death,  held  strands  of  coarse  hair  torn  from 
Picot's  head.  One  of  the  little  pearl  grey 
shoes,  loosed  by  repeated  spasms  of  agony, 
himg  at  the  end   of  the  grey  silk  buskin. 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge   271 

Braconneaii  laid  her  head  on  the  mirror-like 
floor,  and  turned  to  the  people  who  had  fol- 
lowed him  up  the  stairs,  and  who  stood 
watching  him. 

"Citizens,"  he  said,  "I  thank  you  for  your 
attentions.  Like  myself  you  have  come  too 
late.  I  am  a  police  official.  It  is  my  business 
to  stay  here  and  guard  this  house  and  the 
dead  woman.  But  your  places  are  in  your 
homes.  Go  home  and  finish  the  night  like 
decent  citizens,  in  sleep."  He  turned  to  the 
old  housekeeper  and  said  with  a  peremptory 
gesture,  "Show  these  good  people  out;  close 
and  bar  the  door!"  Lerebourg  made  an 
attempt  to  rise.  Braconneau  forced  him  to 
lie  still. 

*  *  Ah, ' '  sighed  Lerebourg.  ' '  What  a  drama ! 
It  was  horrible !  She  tore  him  with  her  claws ; 
she  maddened  him !  I  saw  him  running  down 
the  stairs,  she,  struggling.  He  felled  me  with 
an  iron.  He  strangled  her — so  the  old  woman 
tells  me — seized  her  by  the  throat  and  choked 
her  until  she  ceased  to  kick.  Then  he  hung 
her.  She  swimg  like  a  wet  rag.  ...  A  beast, 
quoi!  He  growled  and  chuckled  as  he  hung 
her  up." 

"Half -brute,  yet  himian;  capable  of  faith 
and  devotion!"  Braconneau  answered. 


272  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  rigid  body  on  the  floor  was  at  full 
length.  The  face  had  lost  its  grimace,  and 
the  feattires  were  settling  to  a  look  of  intense 
cruelty. 

' '  Poor  creattire ! ' '  sighed  Lerebourg.  * '  Can 
we  do  nothing  for  her?" 

' '  She  is  dead, ' '  Braconneau  answered.  * '  Do 
not  pity  her.  You  never  liked  her;  I  despised 
her.  She  was  valuable  as  a  political  spy;  but 
she  was  not  a  woman.  She  gloated  with  fero- 
cious joy  over  the  agony  of  that  poor  devil 
Taillard.  She  was  bad.  The  world  is  better 
off  without  her." 

"I  received  two  blows,"  said  Lerebourg. 
'  *  There  were  two  in  the  attacking  party.  Who 
were  they?" 

Braconneau  laughed.  "Coster  de  Saint- 
Victor  and  Picot.  Either  is  a  match  for  three 
men.  Coster  tricked  me.  .  .  .  But  I  shall 
catch  him!  I  shall  get  them  all  to-morrow 
unless  they  escape  to-night.  There  must  be 
no  dallying;  the  time  has  come  to  act!"  He 
addressed  the  housekeeper:  "My  friend,"  he 
said,  "the  sun  is  rising.  Dress  your  master's 
woimds  and  go  to  bed." 

"Ah,  citizen,"  moaned  the  old  woman, 
"I  cannot  sleep.  And  that  poor  creature. 
.  .  .  What  can  we  do  with  her?" 


The  Chouans  Achieve  Revenge   273 

"They  will  take  her  away.  The  weather 
is  bad;  they  must  get  her  into  the  ground." 

The  old  woman  wept,  rocking  her  body. 

"Come  mother,  this  is  senseless!  The 
living,  not  the  dead,  are  to  be  feared." 

"It  is  horrible!" 

"  I  will  get  her  out  of  your  sight.  Lift  her 
feet.  I  will  take  her  shoulders.  We  must 
lay  her  below." 

Down  the  narrow  stairs,  Braconneau  going 
first,  they  carried  the  dead  woman  into  the 
show  room,  and  laid  her  on  the  divan  where, 
when  the  great  shop  had  closed  for  the  night, 
Lerebourg's  young  wife  had  lingered  imseen 
by  her  household,  to  watch  for  Saint-R6geant's 
messenger. 

There,  her  face  hidden,  the  Countess  de 
Montmoran  awaited  removal  to  her  grave. 

The  old  woman  lighted  two  candles  and 
set  them  at  the  head  of  the  dead,  laid  a  sprig 
of  blessed  box  beside  a  bowl  of  blessed  water, 
and  went  back  to  her  master,  leaving  Bracon- 
neau in  the  sinister  light  of  the  two  candles, 
to  keep  watch. 
It 


CHAPTER  XVTI 

PROMISES  AND  THREATS 

THE  sun  rose  in  a  clear  sky  on  the  day  fol- 
lowing the  death  of  Montmoran.  Little 
Sinclair  was  asleep,  tormented  by  troubled 
dreams,  when  her  femme  de  chambre  drew  the 
bed  curtains. 

"Wake,  Madame!"  she  exclaimed.  "The 
police  are  here!" 

Still  half -asleep  the  young  woman  sprang 
from  her  bed  and  stood,  pale  and  terrified, 
behind  the  ctirtain. 

"Are  you  citizen  Sinclair?  "  asked  one  of  the 
three  men  who  had  followed  the  maid  into  the 
room. 

"Yes,"  answered  Sinclair.  "But  what  do 
you  want?  I  have  never  done  harm  to  any 
one." 

"Dress  instantly!"  ordered  the  policeman. 

"You    are    coming    with    me.     The    public 

examiner  will  tell  you  what  you  have  done. 

Get  what  you  need  for  a  long  journey.     Be 

quick  about  it!     I  have  no  time  to  waste." 

274 


"  '  Are  you  Citizen  Sinclair? '  asked  one  of  the  three  men  who  had 
followed  the  maid  into  the  room." 


Promises  and  Threats  275 

So  saying  he  opened  bureau  drawers  and 
wardrobes,  and  finding  a  man's  clothing, 
asked  roughly,  "Whose  clothes  are  these?" 

"They  belong  to  my  lover,  the  Marquis  de 
Crescenti." 

"Ah,  ha!  The  handsome  gambler,  Cres- 
centi! Do  you  know  that  his  name  is  not 
Crescenti?'' 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands,  "why 
do  you  torture  me?  I  have  done  nothing  to 
harm  any  one.     You  are  in  error." 

"We  are  not  in  error.  You  are  citizen 
Sinclair;  and  your  lover,  'Crescenti,'  as  you 
call  him,  is  the  Chouan  chief.  Coster  de  Saint- 
Victor." 

The  girl's  eyes  dilated.  She  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  and  fainted. 

"  Fichtre/"  one  man  said  to  the  other. 
"Here  is  business  for  us!" 

"Poor  little  soul!  She  tells  the  truth;  she 
is  innocent!  .  .  .  Awake,  citizen!  Come  to 
your  senses !  We  shall  not  trouble  you !  Our 
sole  object  is  to  find  the  Chouan.  Courage! 
You  shall  ride  to  the  prefecture.  The  exam- 
iner is  a  kind  man;  he  will  talk  to  you  like 
your  own  father. — Can  she  be  dead?" 

The  three  policemen  bent  over  the  uncon- 
scious girl.     "What  a  lovely  creature!"  said 


2^6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

one  of  them.  "What  hair!  .  .  .  What  a 
skin!  She  is  like  a  white  flower  picked  from 
the  green  fields." 

"Our  order  was  to  arrest  her.  We  must 
bring  her  out  of  it!"  said  the  yoimger  of  the 
three.     *  *  Call  her  woman ! ' ' 

The  maid  ran  in  answer  to  their  call. 

"You  cannibals!"  she  cried.  "You  come 
like  wild  beasts  to  this  tender  child!  Shame 
upon  you!  Clear  out  of  this  room!  If  she 
is  not  dead,  I  will  revive  her.  Out  of  the  room 
if  you  wish  me  to  help  you!" 

"Calm  yourself,  my  good  creature,"  said 
the  elder  policeman.  "We  have  no  wish  to 
distress  your  mistress.  Bring  her  to  her 
senses!    Meanwhile  I  will  make  my  search." 

'  *  What  f  or  ?  "  was  the  saucy  question.  * '  Do 
you  think  the  Marquis  is  a  fool?  He  has  not 
left  anything  in  this  house.  You  will  find 
nothing.  Search!  You  will  waste  your 
time!"  Changing  her  tone,  she  smiled  and 
said  in  a  wheedling  voice:  "Go  away  like 
agreeable  men!  Here  are  ten  livres  for  you; 
go  and  drink  my  mistress's  health!" 

"  Do  not  make  a  fool  of  yourself! "  answered 
the  man.  "Turn  your  attention  to  your  mis- 
tress ;  throw  water  in  her  face!  When  she  re- 
covers her  senses,  get  her  ready  for  a  journey. 


Promises  and  Threats  2^^ 

When  I  have  made  my  search,  I  will  call  you, 
and,  unless  you  aspire  to  pass  your  night  in 
prison,  be  ready!" 

Left  to  the  care  of  the  tire-woman,  Sinclair 
returned  to  consciousness. 

"Ah,  poor  Madame!"  sighed  the  woman,  as 
she  brushed  out  the  soft,  brown  hair.  "The 
Marquis  is  a  Chouan!" 

"He  may  come  in  at  any  minute,"  sobbed 
Sinclair.     "What  can  I  do? " 

* '  Dress  at  once, '  'urged  the  woman.  ' '  As  soon 
as  you  are  dressed,  they  will  take  you  away. 
Then,  even  if  he  comes,  they  will  not  be  here! " 

Sinclair  had  gone  to  the  mirror  to  adjust 
her  bonnet.  As  she  stood  nervously  trying 
to  complete  her  dress,  she  saw  in  the  mirror 
the  face  of  the  man  always  seen  at  night  in 
the  Frascati  salons.  His  appearance  in  her 
room  did  not  astonish  her.  She  had  received 
a  stunning  blow,  and  all  things  were  alike  to 
her.  But  she  turned  to  the  man  of  her  own 
world  with  a  feeling  of  relief. 

"Monsieur  Lavemidre!"  she  cried.  "You 
will  speak  for  me;  you  will  help  me!" 

"I  shall  do  all  that  I  can  do,"  said  Bracon- 
neau,  "if  you  obey  me." 

"You  are  Lavemidre,  are  you  not?"  she 
asked,  trembling. 


278  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  am  an  officer  of  the  Consular  Govern- 
ment," Braconneau  answered.  "I  will  help 
you  if  you  are  frank.  Put  on  your  bonnet. 
I  have  work  to  do.  I  searched  for  Crescenti 
all  night.  To-day  I  must  do  something 
else." 

He  hesitated;  then  answering  her  look  of 
anxiety,  he  smiled.  "No,  "  he  said,  *T  did 
not  find  him — Crescenti !  he  is  a  gay  fellow  in 
a  race!  But  I  shall  catch  him.  That  is  a 
matter  of  a  few  hours.  He  will  be  in  my  hands 
and  in  the  hands  of  the  Government  very 
soon.  If  he  stays  in  Paris,  they  will  kill  him. 
He  cannot  get  out  of  Paris  without  a  passport. 
But  in  my  pocket  I  have  two  passports, 
signed:  one  for  you  and  one  for  him." 

"Truly?"  she  smiled  and  stretched  out  her 
hand. 

"Gently!  Gently!"  said  the  policeman. 
"You  must  earn  it." 

"Tell  me  how?" 

"Put  on  your  bonnet!  You  and  I  will  go 
to  police  headquarters.  There — if  you  are 
good — I  will  tell  you  where  to  go,  and  give 
you  the  passports." 

The  girl  went  into  her  dressing-room,  and 
Braconneau  searched  the  rooms  already  ran- 
sacked by  his  deputies. 


Promises  and  Threats  279 

In  a  fiacre,  on  the  way  to  the  prefecture, 
Braconneau  said  to  his  prisoner: 

"Your  lover  has  committed  a  crime.  The 
minister  of  police  will  question  you  concerning 
Crescenti  and  his  movements." 

Helpless,  afraid  that  by  speaking  she  might 
do  harm  to  her  lover,  she  sat  with  eyes  lowered. 
Braconneau  continued: 

"You  have  known  Crescenti  as  a  soft- voiced 
carpet  knight;  those  who  know  him  as  he  is 
are  not  astonished  when  he  is  foimd  guilty  of 
acts  that  merit  death.  What  he  has  done  in 
the  way  of  murder  hitherto,  I  do  not  know; 
but  I  know  that  no  longer  ago  than  last  night 
he  helped  the  Chouan,  Joseph  Picot,  murder 
the  Coimtess  de  Montmoran." 

No  answer  was  forthcoming.  Sttmned  by 
the  revelation,  the  unhappy  girl  sat  beside 
the  policeman,  dumb. 

Braconneau  continued: 

"Crescenti,  or  Coster  de  Saint- Victor,  was 
a  party  to  the  murder.  He  was  with  Joseph 
Picot  when  Picot  entered  Lerebourg's  house, 
— ^he  was  there  to  my  certain  knowledge. 
/  saw  him.  I  know  that  I  am  telling  the 
truth.  I  cut  the  dead  woman  down  from 
the  place  where  he  had  hung  her.  Saint- 
Victor   escaped  me  last  night.     But  I  shall 


28o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

get  him!  Before  many  hotirs  he  will  be  in 
prison." 

Her  lips  parted,  her  eyes  closed.  She 
drooped  her  head.  Braconneau  let  down  the 
cab  window. 

"Eh,  citizen!"  he  said.  "Have  a  little 
firmness!  If  you  faint  for  a  thing  like  this, 
for  nothing  at  all,  what  will  you  do  if  they 
behead  your  lover?" 

"I  will  die." 

"You  need  not  die,"  said  Braconneau. 
"Be  frank;  tell  what  you  know  and  they  will 
not  kill  Crescenti.  You  have  it  in  your  power 
to  save  him." 

"Tell  me  how!"  she  implored. 

"Citizen  Real  will  tell  you." 

The  cab  passed  through  a  coach  entrance 
and  stopped  in  a  dark  courtyard.  Braconneau 
helped  his  prisoner  to  alight,  and  conducted 
her  up  a  flight  of  damp  stone  stairs,  crossed  a 
corridor,  opened  a  door,  and  led  her  into  a 
vast  room  where  policemen  and  gendarmes 
stood  waiting  for  orders,  and  where  yoimg 
attaches  of  the  ministry  sat  before  their  tables. 
Braconneau  nodded  to  a  clerk,  who  answered 
by  a  significant  look  and  a  wave  of  his  hand. 
"Gk)  in!"  said  a  policeman.  "The  minister 
is  waiting  for  you." 


Promises  and  Threats  281 

A  door  opened  and  Sinclair  saw  a  large 
cabinet  lighted  by  a  stained  glass  window. 
In  the  rainbow  light  a  small,  thin  man  with  a 
troubled  mouth  and  a  look  of  authority  sat 
at  a  table.  He  cast  a  keen  glance  at  the 
charming,  deeply  agitated  girl,  smiled,  and 
said  gently: 

"Be  seated,  citizen  Sinclair." 

She  sank  into  an  armchair  near  the  table. 
Braconneau  saluted  and  went  away;  and 
Sinclair  was  alone  with  the  man  who  had  power 
to  save  her  lover. 

"Citizen,"  Real  said,  "we  are  looking  for 
the  men  who  made  an  attempt  to  kill  the 
Consul  in  the  house  of  the  army  contractor, 
Athanase  Gorgeret.  Among  the  incriminated 
there  is  a  person  with  whom  you  are  in- 
timately connected:  the  Chevalier  Coster  de 
Saint- Vic  tor,  known  to  the  habitues  of  Paris 
as  the  Marquis  Crescenti.  I  have  sum- 
moned you  to  ask  you  where  I  can  find 
him." 

"Monsieur,"  answered  the  unhappy  girl, 
"if  I  would  tell  you,  I  could  not." 

"That  is  to  say,  if  you  could  you  would 
not." 

"Do  not  try  to  find  a  hidden  meaning  in 
my  words,"  urged  Sinclair.     "I  will  tell  the 


282  The  Eagle's  Talon 

truth.  I  do  not  know  where  Crescenti  is,  and 
were  my  life  dependent  upon  the  knowledge, 
I  could  not  tell." 

"You  avow,  do  you  not,  that  Crescenti  is 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor?  " 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"And  you  confess  that  he  has  lived  in  your 
house  one  year?" 

She  answered  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
shrug:  "I  do  not  deny  it." 

"You  are  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  in  Paris  with  the  intention  of  preparing 
for  the  return  of  the  princes?  " 

"He  never  told  me  about  his  business,"  she 
answered  simply.  "Until  a  short  time  ago  I 
thought  that  he  was  Crescenti.  One  day  he 
told  me  that  he  was  a  Chouan.  I  began  to 
question  him,  but  my  questions  made  him 
unhappy,  therefore  I  was  satisfied  not  to 
know.  I  loved  him.  I  thought  of  nothing 
but  my  love." 

Moved  by  the  artless  confession.  Real 
bowed  his  head. 

"What  men  visited  him?"  he  asked. 

"No  one  ever  came  to  my  house  to  see 
him.  In  my  house  he  was  the  Marquis 
Crescenti.  I  was  very  happy  with  him.  I 
thought  of  nothing  else." 


Promises  and  Threats  283 

"Where  did  he  get  his  money?" 

"I  never  asked  him;  but  I  know  that  he 
plays  every  day,  and  that  he  always  wins." 

"Have  you  heard  of  Georges  Cadoudal?" 

"Never  from  Crescenti." 

"Do  you  pretend  that  you  did  not  know 
that  Crescenti  was  a  Chouan?" 

"I  know  that  he  conspired.  But  is  that  a 
crime?  One  half  of  the  people  in  France 
have  conspired  against  the  other  half." 

R6al  reddened.  He  thought  of  his  own 
conduct  and  of  his  part  in  the  fate  of  the  King. 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  simple  intrigue," 
he  said  sharply.  "The  Chouans  plotted 
against  the  Consul!  Their  scheme  was  to 
kill  the  Consul  and  restore  the  throne.  What 
do  you  know  about  their  plans?" 

"Nothing!  I  know  nothing  that  is  not 
known  to  all  the  world.  They  are  always 
rising.  In  Normandy  and  in  Brittany  they 
have  always  risen;  there  have  been  chauffeurs 
in  Paris:  cruel  men  who  have  burned  the  soles 
of  the  feet  of  people  to  make  them  confess 
where  they  have  hidden  their  money.  .  .  . 
And  on  the  country  roads  there  are  highway- 
men.   All  that  is  known." 

R6al  was  angry. 

"You  will  not  escape  by  responses  of  that 


284  The  Eagle's  Talon 

kind!"  he  said.  "If  you  do  not  answer  my 
questions,  I  shall  send  you  to  prison!" 

"Oh,  monsieur!"  she  began,  "I  do  not 
care  about  myself." 

"No!"  he  said,  interrupting  her,  "but  you 
care  about  your  lover!  I  am  well  aware  of 
that  fact.  I  shall  punish  yoiu*  lover  if  you 
do  not  answer  me." 

"Forgive  me!"  she  implored.  "Tell  me 
what  to  do!" 

"Be  reasonable  and  frank,  and  answer  my 
questions.  Tell  me  where  to  find  Georges 
Cadoudal  and  I  will  give  you  means  to  take 
Crescenti  away  from  Paris,  to  a  place  where 
he  will  be  safe." 

She  covered  her  face.  "You  are  asking 
me  to  do  what  is  impossible!  I  know  nothing 
about  the  Chouans." 

"Did  your  lover  never  tell  you  where  his 
chief  lodged?" 

"When  General  Cadoudal  first  came  to 
Paris,  I  was  told  that  he  lived  in  Chaillot. 
He  moved  from  Chaillot.  I  never  knew 
where  he  went." 

R6al  was  baffled.  He  turned  away,  im- 
patient, dispirited,  and  hopeless.  He  ignored 
Sinclair's  presence,  and  selecting  a  sheet  of 
paper,  dipped  his  pen  in  ink  and  wrote  a 


Promises  and  Threats  285 

letter.  The  girl  sat  silent,  a  prey  to  fear, 
watching  him.  He  finished  one  letter  and 
began  another,  then  turning  suddenly,  he 
asked  in  a  harsh  voice:  "When  yotir  lover 
went  away,  did  you  see  him  go?" 

"Yes,"  she  faltered.  "I  was  always  there, 
on  the  balcony." 

"Ah,  you  were  on  the  balcony?  Did  you 
watch  him?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "I  always  watched 
him." 

"In  which  direction  did  he  go,  toward  the 
city  limits,  or  toward  the  centre?  " 

"Sometimes  toward  the  centre,  sometimes 
toward  the  limits." 

"Did  you  never  ask  where  he  had  been?" 

"Never.  I  watched  until  he  vanished: 
then  I  watched  for  him  until  he  came.  When 
I  saw  him  coming,  I  was  happy.  All  that 
I  cared  for  was  to  have  him  come!" 

"If  he  had  not  come,  where  should  you 
have  looked  for  him?" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  did  not 
answer. 

"Did  he  never  tell  you  where  to  look  for 
him?" 

"Never!  He  never  talked  about  his  busi- 
ness, or  of  what  he  did  when  he  was  away." 


2^6  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"But  you  must  have  had  some  curiosity. 

You  would  not  have  been  a  woman  had  you 

not  tried  to  find  out  his  secrets." 

"I  never  cared  for  an3rthing  but  him." 
R6al  was  touched  by  the  avowal  of  her 

simple  and  exclusive  love. 

"Was  Cadoudal  the  only  man  he  talked 

about?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"He  never  spoke  of  Cadoudal.     He  never 

spoke  of  any  one." 

"Did  he  speak  of  Pichegru  or  Moreau?* 
She  reflected,  then  she  said  as  if  musing: 
"I  think  that  he  spoke  of  meeting  General 

Pichegru   at   Frascati.     I   too   saw   General 

Pichegru.     He  is  very  tall,  therefore  I  noticed 

him.     He  towered  above  the  others.     I  never 

saw  General  Moreau.    Crescenti  never  spoke 

of  him." 

"Do  you  know  citizen  Gorgeret?" 

"Yes,  because  he  is  the  intimate  friend  of 

Mme.  de  Montmoran."     She  shuddered  and 

added  in  a  low  voice:  "He  was  her  intimate 

friend  .  .  .  her  lover." 

"Do  you  know  Colonel  Foumier?" 

A  deep  blush  suffused  her  face  and  she 

answered  in  a  low  voice:  "Colonel  Foiimier 

is  far  away." 

"He  is  far  away  at  this  moment.     He  has 


Promises  and  Threats  287 

not  always  been  far  away.  He  lived  in  Paris 
not  long  ago.     Did  you  see  him?  " 

"Yes." 

"Did  he  visit  you?" 

"Yes." 

"i7e  visited  you!  You  permitted  him  to 
visit  you  in  the  house  where  you  lived  with 
Saint- Victor!  So  you  were  not  absolutely 
faithful  to  yoiu*  'Crescenti'!  " 

She  sprang  from  her  chair  and  faced  him 
with  hands  clenched.  *' It  is  not  truer'  she 
cried.  "I  loved  Crescenti  as  I  love  him 
now!  I  permitted  Fournier  to  come  because 
I  was  afraid  that  he  would  kill  my  dear 
Crescenti.  Fournier  is  cruel  and  very  jeal- 
ous. I  kept  him  quiet.  —And  then  he  went 
far  away." 

"I  see!"  sneered  R6al.  "You  are  not 
quite  the  angel  that  you  seem  to  be!  You 
have  still  a  little  taint  of  earth.  You  have 
not  taught  me  anything!  I  know  all  about 
you !  I  should  be  justified  in  giving  you  severe 
piHiishment.  As  I  am  lenient  and  as  I  am 
disposed  to  overlook  the  irregularities  of  your 
life,  be  good  enough  to  be  frank!" 

"How  can  I  talk  when  I  have  nothing  to 
reveal?"  urged  Sinclair. 

R6al  frowned.     "I  meant  to  set  you  free," 


288  The  Eagle's  Talon 

he  said.  "Your  conduct  forces  me  to  send 
you  to  prison." 

"You  are  going  to  put  me  in  prison?"  she 
asked  timidly. 

"You  force  me  to  do  so." 

"Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  get  away  if  you 
do  not  put  me  in  prison?" 

"Well  .  .  .  "he  answered,  "perhaps  I  am 
not  as  afraid  of  that  as  I  am  that  you  will 
warn  Saint- Victor." 

"Why  not  let  me  go  home?  You  could 
set  a  guard." 

"I  will  do  that  if  you  will  be  reasonable." 
His  voice  was  so  kind  that  she  bent  her  head 
as  if  to  hear  better,  smiled,  and  asked  eagerly : 
"Tell  me  what  to  do.  Citizen  R6al,  and  I  will 
try  my  best  to  please  you." 

"To  be  absolutely  frank,"  said  R6al,  "the 
matter  is  just  this:  the  Countess  is  dead, 
Gorgeret  is  under  arrest,  and  within  a  very 
few  hours  everything  will  be  known.  Tell  me 
the  truth;  give  me  an  idea  where  to  look  for 
Georges  Cadoudal,  and  in  return  for  your 
obedience,  I  will  give  you  passports  and  help 
you  to  get  away  with  Saint- Victor." 

"I  know  nothing  of  all  that!"  she  said 
sorrowfully.  "Do  not  blame  me!  I  cannot 
tell  you  what  I  do  not  know." 


Promises  and  Threats  289 

"I  will  see  about  that!"  was  the  sharp 
answer.  "  I  will  send  you  where  you  will  have 
time  to  learn  something!" 

He  touched  his  bell.  Braconneau  entered 
and  R6al  gave  him  an  order.  Braconneau's 
face  darkened.  ^'The  bungler!  ^^  he  said  to 
himself.  ^^  He  is  sending  her  away;  now  I  shall 
have  no  bait  for  my  trap!'* 

But  his  orders  were  formal,  and  to  R6al  he 
never  talked. 

"Come!"  he  said  to  Sinclair,  "I  will  go 
with  you.     Do  not  be  afraid." 

Sinclair  arose,  and  with  a  sorrowful  saluta- 
tion to  R6al,  passed  from  the  room.  An  hour 
later  she  was  in  a  cell  in  the  prison  of  the 
Madelonnettes. 

XO 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  MASTER  GUNNER 

DEAL  had  told  the  truth;  Gorgeret  was  in 
*■  ^  the  hands  of  military  justice.  Bona- 
parte had  ordered  Colonel  Rapp  to  Amiens; 
and  there,  assisted  by  clerks  of  the  commissary 
department,  he,  Rapp,  was  hard  at  work  com- 
paring Gorgeret 's  invoices  with  the  current 
consignments,  and  verifying  qualities  and 
quantities.  Closely  watched  by  a  military 
inspector,  and  under  strong  guard,  the  con- 
tractor was  delivering  haversacks  and  shoes 
to  the  army.  By  Bonaparte's  order,  the 
magazines  and  storehouses  had  been  subjected 
to  the  rigid  inspection  made,  according  to 
army  regulations,  on  the  eve  of  war.  Gor- 
geret knew  the  routine;  he  could  do  his  work, 
the  army  needed  him.  Therefore,  working 
like  a  galley  slave,  riveted  to  the  chains  of 
strict  surveillance,  the  aged  swindler  was 
reaping  the  tares  sown  in  the  days  of  his 
freedom. 

The  wind  of  war  was  blowing  from  Germany. 
290 


The  Master  Gunner  291 

Austria  was  hurrying  on  the  work  of  increas- 
ing her  armaments,  and  bad  news  had  come 
from  Italy.  In  the  Tyrol  the  military  forces 
had  been  doubled;  and  Prince  Charles  had 
galloped  over  the  cantonments  as  if  survey- 
ing his  possessions. 

The  Consul  had  ignored  the  universal  pre- 
paration; but  his  own  martial  preliminaries 
were  imder  way.  On  a  morning  closely  fol- 
lowing the  Royalists'  attempt  in  the  h6tel 
Gorgeret,  Bonaparte  was  on  the  sands  of 
Boulogne  on  his  horse  at  the  head  of  his  staff. 
Marmont  and  Ney  rode  side  by  side,  coming 
last  of  all.  Ney,  excited  by  the  visit  of  his 
general,  and  fired  by  pride  in  his  always  well- 
drilled  army,  held  his  head  high.  His  eyes 
sparkled,  his  cheeks  glowed,  and  his  short  side 
whiskers  shone  in  the  simlight  like  gilded 
copper.  The  staff  had  reached  a  redoubt  of 
four  great  guns,  near  Pont-de-Brique. 

Bonaparte  threw  his  bridle  rein  to  Roustam, 
dismoimted,  and  stood  beside  his  horse, 
stroking  its  proud  neck,  and  surveying  the 
glittering  sea.  After  a  few  minutes  of  silent 
observation,  he  went  through  the  gorge  into 
the  earthworks,  and  taking  from  his  pocket  the 
little  glass  that  he  carried  incessantly  when 
in  the  field,  searched  the  horizon.    The  English 


292  The  Eagle's  Talon 

fleet,  six  ships  of  the  line,  six  frigates,  and 
twelve  corvettes,  lay  on  the  broad  blue  field, 
within  easy  range  of  the  four  guns  of  the  re- 
doubt; and  on  one  of  the  frigates  all  the  offi- 
cers stood  close  to  the  rail,  glasses  to  their 
eyes,  intently  watching  the  lighters  of  the 
French  fleet,  manned  with  soldiers  and  armed 
with  light  pieces  of  artillery.  Straight  and 
trim,  General  Davout  stood  in  the  full  light  of 
the  splendid  sim,  giving  orders.  In  antici- 
pation of  a  flat  calm  to  come  at  some  unknown 
time  in  the  future,  the  grenadiers  of  the  Blues 
were  at  row  drill  struggling  with  oars  fifteen 
feet  long. 

Decr^s,  Admiral  and  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
rode  out  from  the  staff,  dismounted,  and 
though  uninvited  by  his  chief,  climbed  the 
slope  of  the  redoubt  to  the  platform.  En- 
couraged by  his  example,  Ney  and  Marmont 
dismounted  and  followed  him.  Ney,  Decrds, 
and  Marmont  leaned  against  a  cannon  pointed 
toward  the  sea,  and  waited  for  the  Constil  to 
break  the  silence.  Bonaparte  stood  with  his 
glass  to  his  eyes,  frowning  and  thinking  aloud: 

"A  thousand  lighters,  sixty  men  in  each; 
I  can  cross  the  Channel  on  a  foggy  morning, 
keep  out  of  the  cruising  latitude,  and  away 
from  the  blockade,  and  land  unseen."     He 


"  Bonaparte  stood  with  his  glass  to  his  eyes,  frowning  and  thinking 

aloud." 


The  Master  Gunner  293 

turned  to  Decrds:  "Admiral,  if  the  wind  is 
fair  how  long  will  it  take  to  cross?" 

"About  four  hours,  with  these  snail-like 
hulks!" 

The  Consul  bent  his  straight  brows,  and 
plucked  nervously  at  his  sleeve.  His  eyes 
blazed.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  rang  like 
steel : 

"Have  you  a  fleet  for  the  transportation 
of  my  troops?" 

"I  had  one,"  growled  the  Admiral ;  "Ville- 
neuve  has  hung  it  up  at  Cadiz!" 

"  Do  not  speak  evil  of  my  fleet! "  Bonaparte 
exclaimed.     " /  will  not  tolerate  it/" 

"I  do  not  speak  evil  of  the  fleet!"  retorted 
the  Admiral.  "I  say  nothing  against  the 
fleet.  All  that  I  say  is  that  it  is  good  enough 
for  grenadiers!" 

Bonaparte  smiled.  "We  are  not  all  ad- 
mirals," he  said.  "My  men  have  not  ac- 
quired sea-legs;  but  they  will  go  where  I  lead 
them — on  the  water  or  on  the  land.  They 
can  shoot.     Look  at  Davout!" 

"7  see  him,''  was  the  grim  answer.  "Set 
him  on  a  chopping  sea  and  then  look  at  him! 
It  will  not  be  shooting  that  he  will  be  doing!" 

"We  bow  before  the  superior  branch  of  the 
service,"    Ney    said    to    Decr^.     "General 


294  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Bonaparte,  stand  back!  Those  English  bull- 
dogs are  opening  fire!" 

Bonaparte  continued  to  hold  his  glass  to 
his  eyes.  On  one  of  the  frigates  a  dozen  men 
hovered  about  a  piece  similar  to  a  chase  gtin, 
trained  astern.  A  white  ball  fluttered  upward 
from  their  deck,  and  swelled  to  a  cloud.  A 
heavy  detonation  shook  the  air,  and,  with  a 
long  roar,  the  projectile  shot  across  the  sea 
and  grazed  the  angle  of  the  bastion.  The 
drums  of  the  redoubt  rolled;  the  men  of  the 
battery  ran  out  from  the  shelter  of  a  casemate 
and  stood  by  their  gims. 

"Now,  then,  boys,"  said  Decrds,  "give 
them  as  good  as  they  sent!" 

Evidently  nettled  by  the  contemptuous 
rating  of  his  Admiral,  Bonaparte  aspired  to 
show  the  skill  of  his  generals.  "Marmont," 
he  said,  "you  did  good  work  at  Acre!  can  you 
fire  a  cannon?" 

"If  good  work  makes  a  gunner,  you  ought 
to  be  a  good  shot,  General  Consul!"  laughed 
Marmont.  "Your  feats  at  Toulon  with  the 
battery  of  the  Fearless  were  notable." 

"Toulon!"  mused  Bonaparte.  "I  ought 
to  remember  that  place!"  He  leaned  over 
one  of  the  guns,  aimed,  drew  back,  and  ordered 
the  gimner  to  fire. 


The  Master  Gunner  295 

The  ball  rent  one  of  the  sails  of  the  frigate. 
The  torn  canvas  hung  in  the  still  air,  motionless. 

"Too  high!"  said  Decrds. 

"Yoiir  turn,  Marmont!"  said  Bonaparte. 
The  brilliant  General  of  artillery  aimed  with 
extreme  precision. 

"That  is  better!"  said  Decr^s. 

' '  Now  then,  Ney ! ' '  said  Bonaparte.  ' '  Yoiir 
turn!" 

"Pardi,  General!"  said  "Redhead"  with 
an  energetic  gesture.  "I  do  not  like  to 
meddle  with  what  I  do  not  understand! 
Order  me  to  attack  one,  or  all,  of  the  English 
ships  and  I  will  obey,  because  that  is  my  busi- 
ness. When  it  comes  to  firing  cannon,  let 
the  gunners  do  it!" 

"Let  the  gunners  do  itf"  echoed  the  Consul. 
"One  hundred  livres  to  the  man  who  destroys 
that  cannon!" 

"Lo  Grenade!  La  Grenadef'  clamoured 
the  men  of  the  battery. 

An  old  cavalry  sergeant  lurched  forward. 

"Are  you  La  Grenade?"  Bonaparte  asked. 

"Yes,  General." 

"Your  comrades  seem  to  think  you  a  good 
shot." 

La  Grenade  tossed  his  head.  "Give  me 
a  chance!"  he  said  proudly. 


296  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  frigate  sent  out  a  ball.  The  ball 
ploughed  the  groimd  and  sprinkled  the  gen- 
erals with  dirt.  La  Grenade,  eager,  his  eyes 
sparkling,  fixed  an  imploring  look  on  the  Con- 
sul. Bonaparte  caught  the  look,  smiled,  and 
waved  his  hand.  "Do  what  you  can  for  me. 
La  Grenade ! "  he  said.   * '  Destroy  that  gun ! '  * 

La  Grenade  sprang  to  one  of  the  four  guns 
trained  it  with  a  rollicking  swing,  and  drove 
back  the  gimners.  ' '  Out  of  my  way,  fellows, '  * 
he  said,  "I  do  not  need  you!''  He  ran  his 
hand  along  the  gun,  fingered  the  cocking- 
lever,  calculated  the  swing  of  the  English 
ship  and  his  own  recoil,  sprang  aside  and 
ptilled  the  trigger.  With  glasses  fixed,  eagerly 
watching  for  the  arrival  of  the  ball  at  its 
target,  the  generals  of  the  consular  army  saw 
fire  and  a  rain  of  metal  splinters.  The  smoke 
cleared.  The  chase  gim  had  disappeared. 
A  wild  cry  arose  from  the  French  battery. 
His  blue  eyes  blazing  through  tears,  Bona- 
parte saluted  the  old  gimner: 

"Well  done,  comrade!"  he  said.  "Par- 
bleuf  La  Grenade,  you  have  made  me  proud 
with  a  pride  I  never  can  forget !  Here  is  your 
gold;  you  have  won  what  no  gold  can  buy!" 

"Hurrah/*'  cried  the  men  of  the  battery. 
"Long  live  the  Emperor  of  France!" 


The  Master  Gunner  297 

Waving  a  salute  to  the  cheering  men,  Bona- 
parte ran  down  the  talus,  passed  through  the 
gorge,  mounted  his  horse,  and  returned  to 
headquarters.  As  he  arrived  at  his  door,  a 
coach  stopped  and  Rapp,  followed  by  Gorgeret, 
got  out.  The  ruddy  colour  had  vanished  from 
the  cheek  of  the  contractor.  His  face  was 
livid  and  lugubrious  and  his  looks  gave 
evidence  of  fear  mingled  with  shame. 

Bonaparte  passed  him  with  eyes  level, 
went  slowly  up  the  steps,  and  entered  his 
house. 

In  an  instant  an  orderly  came  out  of  the 
house  and  murmured  a  few  words,  and  Rapp, 
with  an  imperious  wave  of  his  hand,  ordered 
Gorgeret  to  precede  him.  Arrived  in  the 
anteroom,  Rapp  gave  Gorgeret  into  the  keep- 
ing of  the  officer  of  the  day.  When  the  con- 
tractor entered  the  building,  Bonaparte  was 
ending  his  interview  with  Decr^. 

"Let  Admiral  Villeneuve  understand  that 
his  services  are  not  absolutely  indispensable 
to  France!"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  stinging  sar- 
casm. "Tell  him  for  me  that  if  he  cannot 
decide  himself  to  force  the  blockade,  Admiral 
Magon  will  relieve  him  of  his  command. 
Villeneuve  seems  to  be  afraid  of  the  English!" 

"Villeneuve  is  not  afraid,"  Decrds  answered. 


298  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"He  realises  that  he  is  responsible.  He  knows 
that  if  the  fleet  is  destroyed,  France  would 
have  no  arm  upon  the  sea." 

"She  would  be  better  ofiE  without  an  arm 
than  with  an  arm  that  she  is  afraid  to  use! 
She  is  worse  than  disarmed  if  he  lies  there 
with  my  fleet  and  refuses  to  fight !  My  armies 
cannot  pass  while  the  English  fleet  blocks  the 
way!  When  that  fleet  is  removed  I  can  en- 
ter London.  I  will  give  Villeneuve  three  days 
to  obey  orders.  Do  not  concern  yourselves 
about  the  armament  upon  the  sea ;  I  will  look 
out  for  that!    You  understand  me!    Go/" 

He  turned  to  Rapp: 

"Did  you  bring  him?" 

"Yes,  General." 

"Send  him  in!" 

When  Gorgeret  faced  the  cold,  searching 
look  of  the  Consul,  his  knees  bent  and  a  film 
dimmed  his  eyes. 

"You  are  the  army  contractor,  Gorgeret!" 
said  Bonaparte.  "You  were  with  Faypoult 
during  the  campaign  of  Naples.  You  divided 
the  treasure  you  stole  from  consecrated  places 
— gold  communion-services  and  the  altar  fur- 
nishings of  the  churches — ^with  that  wretch! 
You  merit  death.  If  I  did  my  duty,  I  should 
have  you  shot!" 


The  Master  Gunner  299 

"General — Consul — "  stammered  Gorgeret, 
making  an  attempt  to  prostrate  himself. 

"None  of  that!"  thtmdered  Bonaparte. 
* '  You  are  not  a  woman !  .  .  .  You  plimdered, 
you  committed  other  crimes;  then,  not  content 
to  rest  upon  the  infamy  already  acquired,  you 
conspired!" 

"I  conspired?  /  who  delivered  the  brigands 
to  justice?  ^^ 

"Enough!  Confine  yourself  to  answering! 
When  Georges  Cadoudal  visited  your  house, 
who  went  there  to  meet  him?" 

"I  was  not  present  at  the  conference." 

"Answer  me!     Who  was  there?  " 

"General  Pichegru,  Cotmt  Armand  de 
Polignac,  the  Duke  de  Riviere " 

"Was  Moreau  there?" 

"Yes,  General  Consul.  I  saw  General 
Moreau.  He  came,  but  he  did  not  stay.  He 
departed  before  the  end  of  the  conference. 
He  did  not  agree  with  the  brigands." 

''He  was  there!''  Bonaparte  murmured  in 
a  voice  vibrating  with  grief.  "He  was  there  I 
Even  this  creature  knows  it!  "  He  paced  the 
floor  with  long  strides,  talking  to  himself  in  an 
agitated  undertone.  Rapp,  standing  in  the 
embrasure  of  the  window,  looked  out  upon  the 
sea.     Gorgeret,  a  prey  to  terror,  stood  with 


300  The  Eagle's  Talon 

knees  bent,  listening  to  the  strange  soliloquy. 
"  Moreau  was  there.  .  .  .  But  he  would  not 
listen  when  they  planned  to  kill  me!  " 

Moments  passed.  Rapp  stood  with  back 
turned.  Gorgeret,  dim-eyed,  wavering  upon 
his  aged  legs,  watched  the  Consul  with  the 
piteous  and  shifting  look  of  a  frightened 
animal.  At  last,  planting  himself  before  the 
trembling  citizen,  Bonaparte  spoke  in  a  stem, 
commanding  voice:  "Tell  me  all  that  you 
know  about  that  meeting!  What  did  they 
say?" 

*T  heard  but  a  little  of  it,"  whimpered  the 
old  man.  "Cadoudal  proposed  to  restore 
the  monarchy." 

"What  did  Moreau  say?" 

"He  refused  to  mix  in  it.  He  was  willing 
to  overthrow  the  Consul,  but  he  did  not  want 
to  set  up  the  King." 

Bonaparte  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  rapidly 
striding  to  and  fro:  "He  does  not  love  me  but 
he  does  not  hate  me.  He  loves  France.  Oh, 
Moreau!  We  might  have  worked  together 
for  the  good  of  all!" 

Vacillating,  anxious  to  pacify  the  terrible 
man  to  whom  belonged  the  issues  of  his  fate, 
Gorgeret  listened.  Bonaparte  had  forgotten 
him.     His  pace  slackened;  his  arms  fell  at  his 


The  Master  Gunner  301 

sides.  He  went  to  the  end  of  the  room,  turned, 
and  saw  the  object  of  his  bitter  indignation 
and  disgust.  Menacing  the  contractor  with 
his  fiery  eyes,  he  demanded : 

"And  then  what?  Go  on!  Finish  your 
story!" 

"Then,"  said  Gorgeret,  "he  went  away. 
After  he  was  gone  Cadoudal  raved.  He  said 
that  Moreau's  aim  was  to  be  dictator." 

Bonaparte  bit  his  pale  lips.  He  cast  an 
oblique  glance  at  Gorgeret  and  took  a  step 
forward  as  if  tempted  to  seize  and  shake  him. 

"You  are  an  infamous  creature!"  he  said 
sternly.     "  My  duty  is  to  have  you  shot ! " 

Turning  contemptuously  from  Gorgeret, 
he  said  to  Rapp:  "Take  away  this  man.  I 
will  give  orders  later.  You,  Colonel,  will 
return  to  Paris!" 

"To-night?" 

"At  once!" 

He  seated  himself  before  his  desk  and 
looked  out  upon  the  sea.  The  English  fleet 
was  still  at  drill.  He  struck  the  table  with 
his  clenched  fist,  and  again  voiced  the  anguish 
of  his  mind : 

"I  owe  all  my  troubles  to  the  English. 
The  Chouannerie  has  been  alimented  by  them 
from  the  beginning.     Had  it  not  been  for  their 


302  The  Eagle's  Talon 

assistance,  Hoche  and  Bnine  would  not  have 
been  brought  to  a  standstill  at  two  different 
times.  Not  a  shot  has  been  fired  on  the 
ground  of  Brittany,  that  was  not  moulded  in 
England  and  spit  out  by  an  English  carbine! 
I  will  put  an  end  to  it !  I  will  crush  the  Chou- 
annerie;  then  I  will  set  my  heel  on  the  neck 
of  England!"  He  called  to  an  orderly: 
"Horses  for  my  coach,  service,  and  the  escort! 
I  start  for  Paris  in  one  hour!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  CLEW  AND  A  CAPTURE 

WHILE  the  Consul's  coach  rolled  over  the 
roads  of  Picardy  drawn  by  four  excel- 
lent horses,  Braconneau  was  busy  with  the 
work  given  to  him  by  Fouch6.     He  had  sent 
out  agents  in  all  directions,  in  search  of  Coster 
de  Saint-Victor,   whose  known  disguises  he 
had  fully  described  in  the  orders  given  to  his 
men.     Having  seen  Picot  face  to  face,  Bracon- 
neau knew  that  the  Chouan's  appearance  was 
not  the  appearance  of  Picot  the  Breton,  with 
goatskin  jacket  and  long  curls  covered  by  a 
broad-brimmed  hat.      The  officials  and  tb 
underlings  of  the  political  world  of  Paris,  the 
who  knew  all  the  representatives  of  the  minj 
tries,   saw   Braconneau  deep  in  thought 
every  lotmging-place  in  the  city.    Thus  seat 
lost  in  reverie,  Braconneau  remembered  i 
he  had  seen  a  bootblack,  dressed  as  the  bri/ 
was  dressed,  on  the  night  of  the  tragedy  8 
Blue  Bonnet.     Therefore  he  was  searchi* 
an   individual   wearing  a  chocolate-co' 

303 


304  The  Eagle's  Talon 

vest  and  grey  striped  stockings;  a  man  with 
a  shaven  head,  and  a  face  torn  by  a  woman's 
finger  nails.  He  visited  the  bootblack's 
stand.     It  was  gone. 

"Picot  was  the  bootblack!"  thought  Bra- 
conneau.  "He  is  still  on  earth;  and  where- 
ever  he  is,  he  is  near  Cadoudal." 

Having  looked  for  his  man  on  all  the  comers, 
Braconneau  visited  a  little  wine-shop  near  the 
place  where  he  had  seen  the  bootblack.  He 
called  for  a  half  bottle  of  white  wine,  and  while 
drinking,  talked  with  the  shopkeeper. 

"Where  is  your  bootblack?"  he  asked 
casually.  "The  last  time  he  blacked  my 
boots  I  was  short  of  money.  He  trusted  me. 
To-day  I  have  money,  and  I  should  like  to 
pay  my  debt." 

'  *  You  will  not  find  him  in  this  quarter, ' '  the 
man  answered.  "He  quarrelled  with  his 
friend  and  she  scratched  his  face.  He  was 
badly  damaged.  He  was  deeply  mortified 
by  his  appearance." 

"Did  he  say  where  he  was  going?" 

"He  said  that  he  should  go  to  his  own  coun- 
try. He  was  a  close-mouthed  chap.  .  .  . 
Never  said  a  word  to  me  except  to  explain  his 
scratches.  But  my  boy  knew  him.  Possibly 
he  knows  where  he  lived.     I  will  call  him." 


A  Clew  and  a  Capture  305 

The  man  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  bent 
over  the  floor,  and  called: 

' '  He  Bastien!    Come  up ! " 

A  trap-door  rose,  and  a  round  head,  covered 
with  thick  black  hair,  appeared,  followed  by  a 
lank  body  in  a  black  cotton  apron. 

"Son,"  asked  Braconneau,  "do  you  know 
where  the  bootblack  lodges?" 

''That  bird?"  asked  the  boy.  "He  does 
not  lodge!    He  perches." 

"Where  does  he  perch?" 

The  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "See 
those  mouldy  houses  down  by  the  river  .  .  . 
comer  of  the  rue  de  Bidvre  and  quai  de  la 
Toumelle?  He  must  live  in  one  of  them!  I 
met  him  down  there  one  day  and  says  he  to 
me:  'I  'm  fagged  out,  so  I  *ve  come  home!'" 

"Thanks!"  said  Braconneau.  "I  owe  him 
for  a  shine.     I  want  to  pay  him." 

He  went  away  seeing  in  his  mind  the  black 
and  silent  Seine,  the  quai  de  la  Totunelle,  and 
the  apple  market.  Strolling  on  with  eyes 
upon  the  groimd,  his  busy  brain  evoked  a 
vision:  Coster  and  the  flat-boat  shooting  out 
into  the  stream.  Saint- Victor  had  not  hesitated, 
he  had  leaped  to  it,  and  taken  it  as  if  he  had  a 
right. 

"There,  close  to   the  river,  the  Chouans 


306  The  Eagle's  Talon 

live!"  thought  Braconneau.  "Hidden  in  the 
mass  of  old  houses  as  in  the  cells  of  a  mam- 
moth wasps' -nest,  Picot  can  vanish;  and  in  a 
boat  the  Chouans  can  pass  from  one  side  of 
the  river  to  the  other,  without  fear  either  of 
pursuers  or  of  the  ambuscades  of  the  bridges." 
To  Braconneau,  who  calculated  by  means 
of  the  most  infinitesimal  fractions  of  details, 
and  who  was  as  much  at  home  on  the  river  as 
on  the  land,  Picot's  choice  of  a  lodging  was 
a  revelation.  Coster's  residence  had  been 
closely  watched  night  and  day.  The  young 
chief  had  not  returned  to  the  tall  apartment 
house  with  the  balconies.  The  Chouans 
could  not  have  escaped;  the  highways  were 
watched  by  flying  columns ;  every  spy,  detec- 
tive, and  policeman  in  Paris  was  on  the  watch, 
and  the  Chouans  knew  it.  They  coiild  not 
have  escaped  from  the  city.  If  Cadoudal  was 
with  them,  neither  Picot  nor  Saint- Victor 
would  have  abandoned  him.  All  that  con- 
sidered, Braconneau's  instinct  told  him  that  he 
was  nearing  the  object  of  his  search.  He  went 
slowly  along  the  river  bank,  below  the  houses 
pointed  out  by  the  boy  in  the  wine-shop. 
The  noon  sunlight  fell  on  the  deserted  quai. 
The  longshoremen  and  the  bargees  had  left 
their    work    and    had    gone  into  the    little 


A  Clew  and  a  Capture  307 

houses  in  the  streets  above  the  river  to  take 
their  noon  breakfast. 

"If  I  stand  still  in  view  of  those  houses," 
thought  Braconneau,  "the  people  will  see  me 
from  the  windows;  they  will  suspect  me.  I 
must  make  myself  less  conspicuous." 

He  went  down  the  bank  to  the  edge  of  the 
river,  took  off  his  hat,  tied  his  handkerchief 
over  his  head,  sat  down  by  a  heap  of  sand, 
drooped  his  head,  and  feigned  sleep.  In  his 
hempen  blouse,  his  face  covered  with  a  ban- 
dana handkerchief,  he  had  every  appearance 
of  a  man  sleeping  off  his  wine.  An  hour  stole 
by;  the  rest  was  welcome  to  the  man  who 
rarely  slept.  The  workmen  returning  to 
their  work  nodded  to  each  other  as  they  passed 
the  sleeper.  "He  put  on  his  trimmings  early 
in  the  day!"  said  one  of  them.  "Eh,  old 
fellow!  You  must  pay  for  your  bed  if  you 
sleep  on  our  sand!" 

Braconneau  muttered  a  few  unintelligible 
words,  rolled  his  head,  and  snored. 

"There  is  an  orphan  who  will  not  cry  for 
his  supper!"  laughed  the  workman.  "Sleep, 
mon  enfant,  you  need  it  1 " 

They  balanced  themselves  against  the  sand 
bank,  took  off  their  shoes,  stockings,  and  pan- 
taloons, and  waded  out  to  their  boats.     Bra- 


3o8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

conneau,  lying  on  the  pile  of  sand,  watched 
the  closely  massed  houses  at  the  corner  of 
the  quai  and  the  rue  de  Bievre.  The  bells  of 
Notre-Dame  rang  the  hour.  He  knew  that 
he  was  wasting  time.  He  could  not  search 
the  houses  without  reason,  and  if  the  Chouans 
were  within,  provisioned  as  for  a  siege,  days 
might  pass  before  they  ventured  from  their 
hiding-place.  The  hour  when  he  turned  in 
his  daily  report  had  come,  and  still  he  lingered. 
His  unfailing  instinct  impelled  him  to  wait. 

The  afternoon  passed,  night  fell.  He  was 
about  to  forsake  his  post,  when  two  men 
emerged  from  one  of  the  houses — Picot  and 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor  1  They  appeared  sud- 
denly, not  from  any  door,  but  from  the 
shadows.  Coster  was  in  the  working  dress 
of  a  ditcher.  Picot's  clothes  were  hidden  by 
a  long  loose  sack,  finished  at  the  neck  with 
an  inch- wide  band.  His  face  was  covered 
with  scratches,  purplish  black  in  the  dying 
light. 

Braconneau's  joy  was  neld  m  check  by  the 
consciousness  of  his  inability  to  arrest  two  men 
as  powerful  as  the  Chouans.  Picot  had  pushed 
a  flat-boat  into  the  water.  He  raised  the  oars 
and  motioned  to  the  young  chief  to  take  his 
place  in  the  boat. 


A  Clew  and  a  Capture  309 

"  If  both  men  get  into  the  boat,"  Braconneau 
said  to  himself,  "I  shall  jump  into  the  river, 
cling  to  the  boat,  and  shout  to  the  bargees. 
If  I  let  the  Chouans  get  away,  I  shall  not 
know  where  to  look  for  them." 

Picot  stood  on  the  shore  holding  the  boat. 
Coster  seized  the  oars,  jumped  into  the  boat, 
took  his  seat,  and  pushed  out  toward  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  Standing  dose  to  the 
water,  Picot  watched  him  for  a  moment; 
then  he  turned  from  the  river,  and  on  his  way 
to  the  quai  neared  the  sandpile.  Braconneau 
permitted  him  to  pass,  leaped  to  his  feet,  and 
springing  upon  him,  seized  him.  Picot  re- 
cognised him  and  his  strength  failed.  Bracon- 
neau, nerved  by  his  necessity,  hugged  Picot 
close,  pinioning  his  arms. 

''Joseph  Picot''  he  said,  "/  arrest  youf* 

The  men  working  on  the  shore  ran  up. 
Picot  knew  that  to  resist  would  be  worse  than 
useless.  He  uttered  the  shriek  of  an  owl. 
Coster,  in  midstream,  uttered  the  same  wild 
cry,  and  bending  to  his  oars  rowed,  not  toward 
the  shore,  but  down  the  stream.  Quick  to 
recognise  the  physical  conditions  of  his  sub- 
jects, Braconneau  saw  that  Picot  had,  from 
some  unknown  cause,  lost  his  power  of  resist- 
ance; therefore  he  let  go  his  hold.    As  his 


310  The  Eagle's  Talon 

hold  loosened,  Picot  uttered  a  low  growl,  and 
imitating  the  action  of  a  goat  of  Brittany,  ran 
at  his  captor  with  head  lowered.  Braconneau 
stepped  aside,  and  the  Chouan,  driven  by  his 
furious  impulse,  fell  on  his  face.  Bracon- 
neau jimiped  upon  his  back,  mastered,  and 
handciiffed  him. 

The  day's  work  was  done.  The  bargees 
came  up  the  slope,  laughing  and  singing. 

"Well,"  said  one  to  another.  "Pretty 
good!  The  sot  was  a  spy!  Eh,  copper,  you 
work  well!" 

Picot  struggled.  Just  then,  three  police- 
men of  the  House  of  Customs  came  in  sight 
and  Braconneau  called  to  them.  When  they 
had  dragged  their  prisoner  to  his  feet, — "Now 
Picot,  my  boy,"  said  Braconneau,  "fotir  men 
and  the  handcuffs  are  a  match  for  you; 
march  !'^ 

Covering  him  with  their  pistols,  the  four 
agents  of  the  consular  service  conducted  their 
prisoner  to  the  prefecture ;  and,  imder  a  strong 
guard,  he  reached  the  Temple,  where  he  was 
locked  in  a  cell. 


CHAPTER  XX 

VICTIMS  OF  A  LOST  CAUSE 

COSTER  had  chosen  the  highway  of  the 
river  as  a  route  less  dangerous  than  the 
streets.  Near  the  Pont  Neuf  he  went  ashore, 
climbed  the  slope,  and  entered  the  network 
of  little  streets  in  the  quarter  of  the  Mint. 
Cadoudal  had  changed  his  lodging-place  early 
in  the  morning  after  his  escape  from  the  h6tel 
Gorgeret.  His  new  lodging  was  in  the  sloping 
rue  de  la  Montagne  Sainte-Genevidve,  and  to 
that  lurking-place,  Coster  de  Saint-Victor 
went,  in  peril  of  his  life,  to  warn  him  of  his 
danger,  and  to  urge  him  to  make  an  effort  to 
escape  from  Paris.  The  fact  that  Picot  had 
been  arrested  near  his  dwelling-place  proved 
that  the  police  had  followed  him  and  knew 
his  movements.  Saint- Victor  knew  that  his 
own  escape  had  been  miraculous,  and  that 
any  moment  might  end  his  liberty  of  action. 
Despite  his  daily  increasing  remorseful  love 
for  the  woman  who  adored  him,  Cadoudal 
was  his  first  care;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 

311 


312  The  Eagle's  Talon 

his  own  safety  and  his  life  were  as  nothing 
compared  to  the  safety  and  the  life  of  his 
chief. 

Armed  with  a  brace  of  pistols  and  a  hunter's 
knife,  Saint- Victor  felt  equipped  to  meet  and 
conquer  a  multitude.  Striking  the  footpath 
with  a  determined  and  nervous  tread,  he  went 
up  the  rue  de  la  Montagne,  threatening  in 
mind  and  in  aspect.  He  had  come  to  the 
point  where  a  man  thinks  of  nothing  but 
the  success  of  his  efforts.  Before  he  reached 
the  Pantheon  he  stopped  and  looked  around 
him  to  be  sure  that  no  spy  had  followed  him. 
The  quarter  lay  at  peace  in  the  deep  twilight. 
He  saw  no  one  but  the  merchants  standing  in 
their  doors  to  breathe  the  air.  In  answer  to 
the  Chouan  knock,  the  door  opened.  Loiseau, 
the  vanguard,  was  in  the  corridor.  M6rille 
sat  on  the  first  landing,  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  L6ridan  was  on  guard  in  the  ante- 
room. Unannounced,  Saint- Victor  went  into 
the  inner  room.  Cadoudal  was  on  the  bed. 
He  arose  to  greet  his  lieutenant.  "Well," 
he  asked,  "what  is  the  bad  news?" 

"The  police  are  at  our  heels.  General," 
Coster  answered.  "Picot  was  arrested  be- 
fore my  eyes  less  than  an  hour  ago.  You  must 
escape  from  Paris  at  once." 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause  313 

Cadoudal  answered  calmly:  "Where  can  I 
go?" 

"You  must  escape  from  Paris!  You  must 
not  be  caught  like  a  mouse  in  a  trap.  We 
have  failed.  There  is  no  hope  of  a  restoration! 
You  advised  the  princes  to  get  away.  Now,  I 
insist  upon  it,  you  must  go!" 

"With  whom?" 

"With  L^ridan  ...  or  if  you  prefer,  with 
me.  Put  on  your  dress  of  a  flour-miller. 
Whoever  goes  with  you,  can  go  disguised  as 
a  servant.  Caron,  the  vender  of  perfumes, 
has  offered  me  his  cabriolet  and  an  excellent 
horse.  He  made  the  offer  some  time  ago; 
this  morning  he  renewed  the  suggestion.  He 
is  a  staunch  Royalist.  He  loves  the  King. 
He  is  eager  to  be  of  use  to  you.  We  are  all 
agreed.  General!  We  can  bear  anjrthing  in 
reason.  We  cannot  bear  to  lose  you  by  a 
shameful  act  of  neglect!  How  many  men 
have  you  in  this  house?" 

' '  The  five  men  who  guarded  the  princes :  M6- 
rille,  Loiseau,  L^ridan,  Joyant,  and  Lemoine." 

"I  saw  neither  Joyant  nor  Lemoine." 

"They  are  in  the  garret.  They  were  with 
us  in  the  other  house.  They  insisted  on  ac- 
companying me,"  said  Cadoudal.  "Brave 
martyrs !    devoted  to  a  thankless  cause ! ' ' 


314  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Coster  reflected.  "I  must  talk  with  L6- 
ridan,"  he  said. 

When  L6ridan  came  in,  Saint- Victor  spoke 
frankly  of  his  fears.  L6ridan  smiled.  "A 
matter  of  little  importance!"  he  said  gazing 
in  surprise  into  Coster's  anxious  face.  "We 
came  here  expecting  death.  We  are  prepared 
for  it!" 

"Coster  tells  me,"  Cadoudal  said  to  Leri- 
dan,  "that  the  police  know  our  movements. 
Picot  has  been  arrested.  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"You  must  get  away  from  this  house  at 
once!"  L^ridan  answered.  "You  owe  it  to 
us,  General." 

"Where  can  I  go?" 

"Saint- Victor  tells  me  that  Caron  has 
offered  you  his  horse.  But  you  cannot  make 
an  attempt  to  escape  from  Paris  now.  The 
roads,  in  all  directions,  are  patrolled.  In 
Caron's  house  there  is  a  sure  hiding-place. 
Caron  will  be  proud  to  receive  you.  You 
can  wait  in  your  refuge  until  the  police 
abandon  their  search.  Bonaparte  is  not  mali- 
cious. He  will  not  seek  revenge.  The  search 
for  you  will  be  dropped." 

"I  have  been  in  hiding  too  long!"  Cadoudal 
said.     "To  die  on  the  road  like  a  man  would 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         315 

be  better  than  to  hide  in  a  hole  like  a  fat 
rabbit!" 

"To  attempt  to  leave  Paris  now  would  be 
to  court  death,"  L6ridan  said  resolutely. 
"You  must  not  think  of  it!" 

"There  must  be  some  way  to  get  out  of 
Paris  without  passing  the  gates,"  insisted 
Cadoudal. 

"There  are  places  where  you  can  pass  out 
on  foot.  There  is  no  place,  save  the  gates, 
where  a  carriage  can  pass  out  or  in." 

"  L6ridan,"  said  Coster,  "  I  have  been  seen 
near  Caron's  to-day.  Among  the  people  who 
have  seen  me  there  may  have  been  a  spy,  and 
he  may  be  there  now,  watching  for  me.  For 
that  reason  it  will  be  safer  if  you  go.  Bring 
the  cabriolet  and  take  the  chief  to  his  hiding- 
place.  You  will  have  time  to  get  there  before 
the  shop  closes.  I  will  guard  this  room  and 
help  make  ready  for  the  departure." 

L^ridan  accepted  the  suggestion  with  a 
feeling  of  intense  relief;  he  was  thankful  to 
escape  from  the  pent  air,  to  run  down  the 
rue  de  la  Montagne  with  the  night  wind  in  his 
face,  and  to  see  the  comfortable  people  resting 
from  their  honest  labotu*.  His  thoughts  were 
busy  with  the  problem  ever  present  in  the 
minds  of  the  weary  Royalists: 


3i6     »        The  Eagle's  Talon 

"7/  the  country  is  at  peace,  and  if  the  people 
are  happy,  what  matters  it  what  they  call  the 
man  who  cares  for  them  as  a  father  cares  for 
his  children?  Let  him  he  King  or  Consul! 
The  title  is  hut  a  name!  *' 

Alone  in  the  refuge  given  by  the  Royalist 
shopkeeper,  Mile.  Hisay,  the  two  chiefs  made 
ready  for  departure.  Cadoudal  collected  his 
belongings  and  packed  his  little  travelling 
sack.  Saint- Victor  put  the  room  in  order. 
When  all  was  ready  Cadoudal  sat  down  beside 
Saint- Victor;  then,  ill  at  ease  and  restless,  he 
withdrew  to  the  window.  The  room  was 
large;  the  house  was  one  of  the  ancient, 
plastered  buildings  of  old  Paris,  and  the 
floors  were  of  red  brick,  black  in  the  twilight. 
Cadoudal  sat  with  his  thumbs  together,  very 
straight,  with  shoulders  back,  with  elbows 
close  to  his  sides.  Coster  sat  down  upon  the 
foot  of  the  bed. 

To  the  tired  brain  of  the  yotinger  man  the 
voice  of  the  chief  sounded  far  away.  He 
listened  as  to  the  voice  of  the  dying,  to  the 
low  murmurings  of  the  brave  and  loyal  slave 
of  a  forlorn  idea,  and  a  vision  of  his  own 
wasted  years  arose  before  his  mind.  He 
thought   of   the   lonely   girl   waiting   in   her 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause  317 

solitude;  alone  on  her  balcony,  watching  for 
the  lover  separated  but  by  a  slender  chance 
from  a  shameful  death. 

"Coster,"  Cadoudal  said  gravely,  "we  have 
come  to  a  turn  in  the  long  road.  Our  affairs 
are  at  a  serious  juncture." 

"We  have  reached  a  turn  in  a  road  that  is 
very  long,"  Coster  said  with  an  attempt  to  be 
brave.  "As  to  our  affairs,  I  have  seen  them 
in  worse  straits!  At  Hennebont,  the  night 
when  Brune's  hussars  were  at  our  backs, 
and  that  night  in  the  heather-broom  of 
Lescoen,  when  we  knelt  before  the  wayside 
cross  and  begged  the  saints  to  conduct  us 
to  glory,  death  was  very  near;  nearer  per- 
haps than  it  will  be  to-night!" 

"Perhaps,"  Cadoudal  said,  "but  at  that 
time  we  had  no  one  but  Brune  to  deal  with. 
Bnme  was  nothing  but  a  soldier.  Now  we 
are  face  to  face  with  Bonaparte,  and  he  is 
a  good  deal  more  than  a  soldier;  he  is  our 
fate:' 

"You  are  not  losing  your  courage?"  Coster 
asked. 

"No,"  Cadoudal  said  slowly.  "No,  I  am 
not  losing  coxirage,  because  I  am  still  myself. 
But  I  know  the  truth;  and  I  state  my  opinion. 
My  race  is  run:* 


3i8  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Coster  sat  in  the  darkness,  silent  and  dis- 
pirited. He  heard  the  heavy  throb  of  his 
own  heart,  and  the  deep,  even  breath  of  his 
chief. 

Cadoudal  spoke:  "What  did  you  do  with 
her?'' 

"We  disposed  of  her  definitely." 

"She  is  dead?" 

"Yes.  We  found  her  in  her  room  in  the 
fashion  emporium,  the  Blue  Bonnet,  guarded 
by  one  of  the  consular  police,  Lavemiere, 
the  man  who  caught  Saint-R6geant." 

"Did  he  defend  her?" 

"He  tried  to  defend  her.  We  were  too 
strong  for  him.  In  some  way — wrestling 
with  her,  probably — Picot  strained  his  back. 
Practically  he  is  a  disabled  man.  I  attribute 
his  easy  capture  to  his  condition.  Lerebourg, 
the  man  who  carries  on  the  work  of  the  Blue 
Bonnet,  came  forward.  I  gave  him  a  blow 
to  quiet  him.  Picot  dealt  him  a  blow  that 
cut  his  head  open." 

"And  Lavemidre?" 

"Lavemiere  is  worth  a  dozen  men,  a  dozen 
names,  a  dozen  voices,  a  dozen  personalities. 
He  is  the  man  who  played  the  terrible  r61e  in 
the  drama  of  the  infernal  machine.  He  is 
also  the  man  who  saved  my  head  from  the 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         319 

block.     I  might  have  killed  him.    I  let  him 

go- 

They  had  talked  in  the  deep  dusk  of  a  room 
opening  on  a  court.  Night  was  advancing  and 
the  darkness  rested  their  sick  nerves.  Saint- 
Victor  had  ceased  to  speak;  and  as  he  did 
not  respond  to  questions,  Cadoudal  struck  a 
light,  and  shading  the  flame  of  the  candle  with 
his  hollowed  hand,  approached  the  bed.  The 
young  Chouan  had  fallen  asleep.  His  blond 
head  rested  on  his  arm  and  his  long  wavy 
hair  lay  like  moonlight  on  his  shoulders. 

Going  at  an  even  but  rapid  pace  down  the 
steep  street,  L6ridan  arrived  at  the  door  of 
Caron,  the  perfumer.  But  the  conditions  of 
the  game  played  by  the  hunter  and  the  himted 
had  changed.  Having  conducted  Picot  to  the 
prefecture,  Braconneau  had  assembled  the 
inspectors  of  police  and  given  them  orders  to 
keep  strict  watch  of  the  quarter  of  the  place 
Maubert.  He  was  still  issuing  orders  when 
one  of  the  detectives  ran  in. 

"Great  news  for  you,  Braconneau,"  he 
exclaimed.  "Not  ten  minutes  ago  I  met 
L6ridan  face  to  face  in  the  rue  Saint-Andr6- 
atix-Arts.  I  saw  him  speak  to  a  man  named 
Gaillard.     Gaillard   and   L^ridan   went   into 


320  The  Eagle's  Talon 

the  perfume-shop  kept  by  Caron.  I  knew 
them,  therefore  I  watched  them.  They  came 
out  of  the  coachway  in  Caron's  cabriolet. " 

"Where  did  they  go?"  asked  Braconneau. 

"Caniolle  and  Destavigny  followed  them 
as  far  as  the  Panth6on.  There  they  lost  sight 
of  them." 

Thus  informed,  Braconneau  sent  out  men 
enough  to  cover  a  large  portion  of  the  quarter 
of  the  Pantheon.  Braconneau  and  Petit 
went  toward  the  Luxembourg.  In  the  rue 
Saint-Etienne-du-Mont  they  met  Caniolle, 
who  told  them  that  Destavigny  had  followed 
the  cabriolet  as  far  as  the  rue  de  la  Montagne- 
Saint-Genevieve. 

"We  are  convinced,"  said  Caniolle,  "that 
Cadoudal  will  attempt  to  make  his  escape  in 
Caron's  cabriolet.  If  the  brigand  gets  away 
in  the  night,  how  can  we  follow  him?" 

"Stay  right  here!"  said  Braconneau.  "I 
will  find  Destavigny  and  tell  him  what  to  do. 
You,  Petit,  assemble  all  our  men  and  sur- 
rotmd  the  quarter." 


The  cabriolet  stood  before  the  door  of  a 
little  shop.  In  it  two  men  were  seated.  Des- 
tavigny, hidden  behind  a  coach-door,  stood 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         321 

watching  them.  The  man  on  the  right  side 
of  the  vehicle  held  the  reins  with  one  hand; 
in  his  other  hand  Braconneau  saw  by  the 
swinging  light  of  a  street  lantern  the  gleaming 
barrel  of  a  pistol.  As  Braconneau  approached 
the  man  on  the  right  hand,  Leridan  raised  the 
whip.  Destavigny  sprang  from  hiding,  and 
seized  the  horse  by  the  bit ;  but  his  hold  was 
light  and  the  horse,  starting  at  a  gallop, 
knocked  him  down. 

Braconneau  had  come  up  behind  the  cabrio- 
let. He  caught  hold  on  the  springs,  and, 
unseen  by  the  Chouans,  breathless,  but 
clinging  with  a  desperate  grip,  accompanied 
the  fugitives  through  the  passage  des  Jacobins, 
the  rue  des  Amandiers,  and  the  rue  de  la 
Harpe.  As  they  passed,  Braconneau  saw 
his  men  standing  like  milestones,  along  his 
road.  Clinging,  his  strength  exhausted,  he 
heard  them  call  his  name.  The  men  in  the 
carriage  heard  the  tramp  of  the  strong,  yoimg 
horse  on  the  rough  stones  and  the  roll  of 
wheels ;  and  above  the  noise  of  their  desperate 
course,  the  cry  of  the  police. 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  asked  Cadoudal. 
"They  are  watching  for  us!  No  resting  at 
Caron's !    We  must  press  on ! " 

"Where    can   we    go?"     Leridan    asked. 


322  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"There  is  no  road  where  they  are  not  watch- 
ing for  us!" 

"We  have  no  alternative.  We  must  go 
on,"  Cadoudal  answered.  "To  halt  now 
wotdd  be  to  give  ourselves  up!" 

The  ground  sloped  and  the  cabriolet  rolled 
faster.  As  it  swept  on,  the  people  shouted 
and  pursued  it.  In  the  rue  Monsieur-le- 
Prince,  a  man  sprang  at  the  horse's  head,  and 
Leridan  lashed  his  face.  The  horse  stopped 
but  for  an  instant;  but  in  that  time  Bracon- 
neau  took  breath.  Smothering,  his  throat 
smarting,  he  clung  to  the  back  of  the  cabriolet. 

Running  in  from  a  cross  street,  an  inspector 
of  police  leaped  at  the  horse's  head.  He 
seized  the  bit  and  dragged  the  horse  to  his 
knees.  Cadoudal  leaned  out  of  the  cabriolet, 
drew  his  pistol,  and  took  aim.  The  man 
dropped,  and  those  near  him  closed  in  on  the 
Chouans.  Cadoudal  leaped  to  the  groimd 
and  stood  at  bay.  He  hoped  to  work  his 
way  to  the  comer  and  escape  by  vanishing 
in  some  coach  way.  L6ridan  jimiped  out  and 
stood  by  Cadoudal.  Braconneau  seized 
Cadoudal  by  his  arm.  Cadoudal  broke  away 
and  pointing  his  pistol  at  CanioUe,  who  had 
approached  during  the  fracas,  fired.  CanioUe 
dropped.     The  bullet  had  ploughed  his  cheek, 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         323 

but  he  was  not  dead.  L6ridan  caught  Bra- 
conneau  by  the  throat. 

' '  Run !  Get  away  from  them ! "  he  shouted 
to  Cadoudal. 

But  it  was  too  late;  the  squad,  led  by 
Destavigny,  hemmed  in  the  fugitives. 

Caniolle,  blinded  by  blood,  staggered  to  his 
feet,  and  raising  his  stick,  struck  at  Cadoudal's 
head  and  knocked  off  his  great  hat.  Bracon- 
neau  caught  the  chief  by  his  long  hair,  and, 
fighting  desperately,  the  detective  and  the 
Chouan  rolled  on  the  ground.  Six  men  had 
run  up  in  answer  to  Braconneau's  whistle. 
Between  them,  by  combined  effort,  they 
mastered  the  chief.  Like  a  wild  boar  attacked 
by  dogs,  Georges  tossed  his  enemies.  At  last, 
forced  to  yield,  he  lowered  his  head.  They 
bound  him  hand  and  foot  and  dragged  him 
to  the  prefecture,  where  he  was  delivered  to 
Dubois.  The  prefect  trembled  with  fear  as 
well  as  joy,  when  the  redoubtable  Royalist 
guerilla  was  led  into  the  courtyard  of  the 
prefecture. 

"Make  his  fetters  strong!"  said  Dubois, 
casting  a  terrified  glance  at  the  Chouan. 
"Now  that  we  have  him,  let  us  keep  him!" 

"He  kiUed  two  of  our  men,"  said  Desta- 
vigny.    "He  shot  Caniolle  in  the  head  and 


324  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Buffet  in  the  bowels.  Poor  Buffet!  He 
leaves  a  wife  and  children." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that!"  Cadoudal  said. 

Braconneau  led  the  prefect  aside.  "My 
work  is  not  finished,"  he  said  to  Dubois. 
"My  agents  must  have  found  Chouans  in 
the  house  where  Cadoudal  lodged.  We  have 
caught  the  chief;  we  must  catch  his  aids!" 

On  the  way  to  the  rue  de  la  Montagne- 
Saint-Genevidve,  Braconneau  prepared  for  a 
hard  struggle;  but  his  men  had  obeyed  his 
orders.  Near  the  Pont-Neuf  he  met  Petit 
and  twenty  policemen,  conducting  the  four 
Chouans  found  on  guard  in  the  house  vacated 
by  Cadoudal.  Each  Chouan  was  guarded 
by  five  policemen.  Braconneau  hailed  them 
with  a  question: 

"Did  you  get  Saint- Vict  or?" 

"No,  chief.  He  escaped  through  the  win- 
dow. He  dealt  Bailey  a  staggering  blow! 
Dropped  on  him!    The  man  is  a  wildcat." 

"Yes,"  said  Braconneau.  "He  is  danger- 
ous. Who  are  your  prisoners?  I  do  not  see 
them." 

"Their  guards  hide  them.  I  have  five 
policemen  to  every  Chouan!  I  have  M^rille, 
Loiseau,  Joyant,  and  Lecroix." 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         325 

"Good!"  said  Braconneau.  "To-morrow 
we  shall  have  Coster." 

Tired  out,  longing  for  rest  and  silence, 
Braconneau  went  slowly  along  the  river, 
toward  the  rue  du  Bac,  to  report  to  his  real 
chief,  Fouche. 


That  evening,  when  Bonaparte  arrived  in 
Paris,  he  found  Fouche  awaiting  him  at  the 
gate  of  the  Tuileries. 

"So  you  knew  that  I  was  coming?"  he 
said,  well  pleased  by  Fouche 's  vigilance. 
"Nothing  escapes  you,  Fouche!" 

"I  received  word  from  Saint-Omer  two 
hours  ago,  and  as  I  had  important  news  for 
you,  I  came  here  to  await  your  arrival." 

Bonaparte  dismissed  Rapp,  who  had  accom- 
panied him,  and  followed  by  Fouch6  went 
into  the  salon. 

''Eh,  hien?  "  he  asked. 

"Cadoudal  has  been  arrested." 

"At  last!  .  .  .  Who  accomplished  the 
feat?" 

"Braconneau." 

"Alone?" 

"No.  He  had  surrounded  the  neighbour- 
hood and  the  quarter  where  Georges  lived 


326  The  Eagle's  Talon 

with  fifty  men.  Cadoudal  fought  like  a 
tiger;  he  killed  two  police  inspectors." 

"Where  is  Dubois?  Why  is  he  not  here 
to  tell  me?  .  .  .  What  is  Real  about?" 

"As  to  Dubois,"  answered  Fouch6,  "the 
citizen  prefect  is  dazed  by  his  triumph;  he  is 
at  the  head  of  the  office;  his  inspectors  did 
the  deed!  As  to  citizen  Real,  it  is  probable 
he  knows  nothing  about  it.  Naturally  enough 
Dubois  would  reserve  his  news  until  in  a  con- 
dition to  accompany  his  chief  when  he  comes 
to  announce  the  good  tidings." 

"Ah^  Fouch6,"  Bonaparte  said  with  an  in- 
dulgent smile,  "you  are  wicked,  do  you  know 
it?     You  make  your  enemies  ridiculous ! " 

He  fixed  his  benevolent  gaze  upon  the  down- 
cast face  with  affectionate  interest.  Fouch6 
stood  with  arms  hanging,  staring  at  the  floor. 
That  he  was  not  pleased  was  evident. 

"Fouche,"  Bonaparte  said,  "did  I  make 
you  any  promises?" 

Obstinately  mute,  Fouche  stood  with  eyes 
lowered. 

"You  have  kept  your  promises,"  persisted 
Bonaparte.     "I  shall  keep  mine." 

The  ex-minister  looked  his  master  full  in  the 
eyes  and  answered  pettishly:  "You  have  ne- 
glected to  come  to  a  decision  about  Moreau." 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         327 

A  look  of  extreme  weariness  clouded  the 
pale  face  of  the  Consiil.  "If  you  regard  it  as 
indispensable,  I  will  let  Regnier  question 
him,"  he  said.  "I  do  not  wish  him  to  be 
accused  until  I  have  given  him  every  means 
of  explaining  his  acts." 

"You  are  very  lenient  to  the  man  who  has 
consorted  with  the  enemies  of  the  Govern- 
ment!" Fouch6  said  sourly. 

"You  must  not  forget,"  Bonaparte  an- 
swered, "that  he  is  a  soldier  whose  record  is 
clear,  and  whose  glory  is  merited.  It  would 
be  difficult  for  me  to  maintain  my  idea  of 
justice,  and  at  the  same  time  seize  every 
opportunity  to  drag  down  my  rival!" 

"However  that  may  be,"  Fouch6  insisted 
doggedly,  "the  safety  of  France  demands  the 
arrest  of  Moreau!  I  cannot  supervise  the 
interests  of  the  people  while  the  enemy  of 
the  public  peace  stalks  unrestrained." 

"Since  you  regard  his  arrest  as  necessary," 
Bonaparte  said  for  the  second  time,  "I  will 
give  Regnier  orders  to  question  him.  I  am 
hoping  that  he  will  be  able  to  give  an  explana- 
tion." 

"And  if  he  disdains  to  answer  Regnier's 
questions?" 

"In   his   case   silence   would   convey   the 


328  The  Eagle's  Talon 

impression  of  culpability.  I  should  be  forced 
to  pxinish  him." 

The  spasm  of  a  smile  troubled  the  grim 
face. 

"Be  careful!  If  you  delay  too  long,  he 
may  leave  the  coimtry!" 

"Ah!"  sighed  Bonaparte.  "If  he  would 
do  that,  my  task  would  be  less  hard!" 

With  a  subtle  attempt  to  read  his  secret 
thought,  Fouch6  said:  "He  has  not  the  sena- 
torial backing  that  he  is  supposed  to  have. 
You  need  not  fear  him!" 

Bonaparte  answered  simply:  "I  do  not 
fear  him,  Fouch6 ;  but  I  cannot  forget  Hohen- 
linden." 

Fouche  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  could 
not  understand  that  to  Bonaparte  heroic 
cotirage  was  a  talisman. 

In  the  dusk  the  conqueror  of  Jena  and  the 
man  who  had  compassed  the  arrest  of  his 
enemy  were  like  two  wraiths.  Through  the 
open  window  came  the  sound  of  rustling 
leaves  and  the  click  of  bayonets,  as  the  sentries 
outside  the  palace  gates  changed  posts  and 
shouldered  arms. 

"And  what,"  asked  Bonaparte,  "do  you 
wish  me  to  do  for  Braconneau?  " 

"When  the  Ministry  of  Police  is  reconsti- 


Victims  of  a  Lost  Cause         329 

tuted,"  Fouche  answered,  "Braconneau  ought 
to  be  made  director  of  the  political  service. 
In  that  position  he  would  do  signal  work." 

"I  will  remember.  And  now,  Fouch6,  I 
think  that  we  have  settled  everything.  Is 
there  anything  more  that  I  can  do?" 

"I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  ask  citizen 
R6al  to  release  a  woman  whom  he  has  locked 
up  in  the  Madelonnettes.  The  woman  is 
citizen  Sinclair.  She  is  innocent,  and  I  need 
her  in  my  work." 

"I  will  give  the  order.'* 

As  Fouche  went  down  the  steps  of  the 
palace  he  met  Real.  The  Minister  of  Police 
was  accompanied  by  the  Prefect  of  Police, 
Dubois.  As  they  ran  up  the  steps,  R6al 
called  over  his  shoulder: 

"Bon  soir,  citizen!  I  bring  good  news! 
Cadoudal  and  his  staff  have  been  arrested. 
They  are  in  the  Temple !  The  citizen  Prefect 
has  just  informed  me  of  the  fact  and  we  have 
come  at  once,  to  tell  the  Consul!" 

"This,"  said  Fouch6,  "is  news  indeed! 
The  Consiil  will  be  charmed." 

He  saluted  his  enemy  and  descended  to  the 
street,  head  high  and  a  smile  upon  his  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LOVE   UNDYING 

npHE  following  morning  Moreau  was  ar- 
^  rested,  and  little  Sinclair  was  set  free. 
She  had  been  in  prison  a  day  and  two 
nights,  and  all  that  time  her  thoughts  had 
been  fixed  upon  her  lover.  Immediately 
after  her  release  from  prison,  she  returned  to 
her  apartment  in  the  tall  house  with  the 
balconies.  Her  apartment  was  deserted;  her 
frightened  servants  had  run  away,  carrying 
off  her  linen  and  her  silver.  She  recognised 
her  loss  with  indifference.  Her  thoughts 
were  with  her  lover.  She  ran  from  one  room 
to  another,  distracted  by  forebodings.  In 
the  street  men  were  crying  bulletins,  but  she 
dared  not  buy  them.  She  had  been  very- 
kind  to  her  concierge;  therefore  she  felt  free 
to  question  her;  and  the  woman,  grateful  for 
many  favotirs,  was  glad  to  talk  to  the  forlorn 
object  of  police  suspicion. 

"Ah,  Madame!"   she   sighed,  folding  her 
hands  and  gazing  with  pity  into  Sinclair's 

330 


Love  Undying  331 

imploring  eyes.  "So  many  things  have  hap- 
pened since  Madame  went  away !  The  famous 
Chouans,  Cadoudal  and  his  band,  have  been 
caught!" 

"Cadoudal!  Had  he  a  band?*'  the  girl 
asked. 

"Yes,  Madame,  an  army  of  brigands, 
hidden  in  different  dens  in  Paris — all  waiting 
to  kiU  the  Consul!  They  are  all  named  in 
the  newspapers.  My  boy  shall  bring  you 
one. 

' '  How  is  your  son?  "  Sinclair  asked,  attempt- 
ing to  shake  off  her  feeling  of  horror. 

"As  ever,  lazy!  He  is  a  painful  burden, 
at  present.    Vacation  is  my  time  of  trial!" 

"My  servants  deserted  me." 

"Yes,  they  feared  to  be  implicated.  They 
are  within  hail  if  Madame  wishes  them  to 
rettim." 

"  Will  the  cook  return?  " 

"Eh,  out!  if  Madame  wishes  it.  She  is  a 
coward;  still,  if  Madame  wishes " 

"  I  must  have  some  one  to  help  me,"  Sinclair 
began. 

"Until  other  arrangements  can  be  made,  I 
will  come  in  daily,  for  a  time,"  said  the  con- 
cierge. "The  femme  de  chambre  will  not 
return.    She  asstimed  Madame's  most  beau- 


332  The  Eagle's  Talon 

tiful  dress  and  went  out,  as  she  assured  me, 
'to  catch  a  lover.'" 

"And  the  Marquis?"  faltered  Sinclair. 

"He  has  not  been  here." 

The  concierge  went  into  the  little  kitchen 
to  begin  her  work  of  restoring  order,  and  Vir- 
ginie  searched  the  newspaper  for  tidings  of 
Crescenti.  The  story  of  the  capture  was 
graphically  told.  The  names  of  the  arrested 
men  were  given.  Saint- Victor's  name  was 
not  among  them.  Pichegru  had  been  arrested. 
Moreau's  arrest  was  near.  Crescenti  had 
escaped.  The  girl  sat  in  her  desolate  home, 
thinking  with  despairing  tenderness  of  the 
blithe  presence  that  had  blessed  her  life;  of 
the  man  whose  love  had  accomplished  the 
awakening  of  her  soul. 

''He  has  escaped.  He  was  forced  to  go. 
He  has  gone,  without  one  word  to  me!"  she 
thought,  gazing  with  agonised  eyes  around  the 
place  where  she  had  been  so  happy.  "He 
has  gone  from  me!  I  am  alone.  How  can  I 
bear  it!  .  .  .  How  can  I  live  without  him! 
The  world  is  vast  and  beautiful.  People  will 
love  him  for  his  gentle  ways.  Other  women 
will  be  with  him — and  I,  the  wretched  girl 
of  the  gay  life  of  Paris,  the  desecrated,  the 
worthless!  the  woman  loved  by  men! — how 


Love  Undying  333 

will  he  remember  me?''  She  thought  of  the 
broad  world  and  of  the  brilliant  women  who 
had  never  sinned,  the  women  whom  men  were 
proud  to  marry.  What  chance  had  the  light 
girl  of  Paris  to  be  remembered  among  such  as 
those? 

She  had  left  the  prison  in  the  morning  and 
gone  home  under  the  brazen  sky,  in  the  lurid 
light  of  her  misery.  She  had  wandered  from 
room  to  room,  and  with  hands  clasped,  and  with 
arms  stretched  toward  the  heavens,  she  had 
begged  for  mercy  on  behalf  of  her  hapless  love. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  night,  the  first  night 
of  her  widowhood,  was  coming  on.  Terrified 
by  her  desolation,  she  fled  from  the  dark 
rooms,  set  her  chair  close  to  the  railing  of  the 
balcony,  and  drew  Saint- Victor's  portrait 
from  her  bosom.  On  the  day  that  followed 
the  revelation  of  Crescenti's  relations  with  the 
Chouans,  troubled  by  the  look  of  fear  in  the 
eyes  of  the  unfortunate  Sinclair,  the  young 
Chouan  had  climbed  the  street  directly  lead- 
ing to  the  quarter  of  the  artists,  and  enlisted 
the  sympathies  of  a  Royalist  portrait  painter. 
Then,  casting  aside  his  long  loose  linen  blouse, 
he  had  appeared  before  the  artist  in  the  pic- 
turesque imif orm  of  the  Catholic  and  Royalist 
army. 


334  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Inspired  by  the  romantic  beauty  of  his 
subject,  the  artist  had  put  his  soul  into  his 
work.  His  result  was  a  striking  likeness  of 
Crescenti,  painted  on  a  plaque  of  ivory. 
Saint- Victor  had  extilted  in  his  beauty  as  he 
ran  down  the  artists'  hill,  stealing  glances  at 
the  soft,  brown,  melancholy  eyes  of  the  por- 
trait; the  lips  perpetually  pouting  and  rose 
red  from  Sinclair's  kisses,  and  the  waving 
hair  of  pale  gold.  The  face,  shaded  by  the 
plimied  hat  of  a  cavalier,  wore  the  dreamy 
and  wistful  look  of  the  living  original.  The 
epaulets  of  an  officer  of  the  chassetirs  of  the 
King  tipped  the  straight  shoulders ;  the  blood- 
red  Sacred  Heart  with  flamboyant  rays  lay 
on  the  golden  tan  of  the  Chouan  vest.  Two 
little  ribbons,  fastened  by  a  cockade  to  the 
hat's  crown,  bore  the  words  dear  to  the  Iceland 
fishermen  of  Brittany:  "Ave  Maria!  Stella 
Maris!"  Around  the  neck  hung  a  chaplet. 
The  hands,  crossed  over  the  breast,  but  half 
concealed  the  summit  of  the  upright  and  the 
ends  of  the  arms  of  a  crucifix.  A  belt  of  crim- 
son silk  girded  the  slender  waist;  and  rising 
from  beneath  its  folds,  gleamed  the  jewelled 
butts  of  a  brace  of  pistols. 

He  had  given  her  the  portrait  and  had 
explained  the  meaning  and  ptupose  of  the 


Love  Undying  335 

Chouannerie.  Moved  by  the  pathos  of  her 
submissive  love,  he  had  vowed  a  vow  to  the 
Virgin  to  be  true  to  her,  and  to  make  her 
happy  according  to  the  stem  chances  of  his 
life.  He  had  turned  his  wasted  years  into  a 
romance,  and  painted  the  characters  of  his 
comrades  as  he  saw  them  in  the  light  of  his 
fraternal  love.  He  had  spoken  of  their 
patience  and  endurance;  of  Cadoudal's  devo- 
tion to  his  King;  of  Lemoine,  of  Joseph  Picot, 
and  of  Taillard,  Brise  Bleu,  "the  blue  gale 
from  the  sea  " ;  of  M6rille,  Loiseau,  and  Joyant ; 
and  the  chasseurs  of  the  King.  He  had 
spoken  of  the  thorn  broom  on  the  Breton 
moorlands;  of  the  wooded  hillsides;  and  of  the 
low  roads  channelled  under  the  hawthorn 
hedges;  and  she  had  hung  upon  his  words  with 
lips  parted  and  with  eyes  glistening.  .  .  .  And 
now  it  was  all  over!  Never  more  shotild  she 
lie  beside  him,  listening  to  his  soft  breathing; 
or  go  out  on  the  balcony  to  see  him  go,  or  come ! 
As  the  wind  sweeps  the  grey  rain,  her 
memory  swept  the  visions  of  the  last  troubled 
days  before  her  mind.  The  image  of  Cres- 
centi  faded,  and  she  saw  Saint- Victor,  with 
dawning  love  in  his  deep  eyes,  with  the  silver 
light  on  his  blonde  hair.  She  had  thought  to 
be  with  him  to  the  end;  and  now 


33^  The  Eagle's  Talon 

Down  in  the  street  the  careless  people  were 
passing,  and  she  rested  her  forehead  against 
the  railing  of  the  balcony,  and  watched  them, 
as  she  had  watched  them  in  happier  days.  A 
man  in  the  brown  clothes  of  a  day  labourer 
stood  under  the  street  lamp  across  the  street. 
He  raised  his  cap  and  she  saw  the  light  on  his 
fair  hair.  She  sprang  from  her  chair,  leaned 
over  the  balcony  and  stretched  her  arms  to 
him.  In  an  instant  he  was  on  the  stairs  .  .  . 
he  was  at  the  door  ...  he  was  in  the  room. 
The  door  was  closed,  and  she,  sobbing, 
clinging  to  him,  crying  thanksgiving  to  the 
saints,  was  pouring  out  the  anguish  of  her 
desperate  love.  When  he  had  calmed  her 
exaltation  and  brought  her  down  to  reality, 
he  spoke  of  Cadoudal,  of  the  drama  of  the 
capture,  and  of  his  own  escape  from  the 
rue  de  la  Montague. 

Sitting  in  woeful  adoration,  clasping  his 
arm  to  her  breast,  and  covering  his  fingers  and 
his  wrist  with  kisses,  she  told  the  story  of  her 
arrest. 

"I  was  here  the  night  after  we  parted,"  he 
said — "I  came  up  to  the  door;  but  my  key 
would  not  turn  in  the  lock.    Where  were  you ? '  * 

"In  prison  .  .  .  with  thieves  and  wicked 
women." 


Love  Undying  337 

"My  innocent  darling!"  he  said  fondly. 
"Until  that  night,  I  never  knew  the  cruel 
violence  of  my  love. "  She  drooped  her  eyes 
and,  with  invincible  coquetry,  evaded  his 
ardent  gaze. 

* '  Let  me  tell  you  something !  * '  she  said.  * '  Do 
not  look  at  me,  Giolo!  Your  eyes  frighten 
me!  .  .  .  We  are  notorious  at  present 
.  .  .  the  whole  world  knows  that  I  love  you. 
They  spoke  of  it  at  the  Prefecture. " 

"  Virginie!'' 

"Yes,  truly!  Citizen  R6al  spoke  of  you. 
He  questioned  me." 

"The  regicide!     If  I  could  catch  him " 

"Do  not  think  of  revenge,"  she  urged. 
"Think  only  of  your  safety." 

"There  is  no  safety  for  me!"  he  answered. 
"Even  now  they  may  be  waiting  for  me.  I 
must  put  on  my  pretty  dress,  and  go  away 
in  my  own  blonde  hair.  If  I  reach  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  I  shall  escape.  I  have  pow- 
erful friends  in  Courbevoie.  They  have 
means. " 

"Shall  you  go  to-night?" 

"I  ought  to  have  gone  before  I  came  here. 
But  I  love  you  far  more  than  I  love  my  life; 
therefore,  I  came. " 

"Must  you  go  to-night? "  she  insisted. 

aa 


338  The  Eagle's  Talon 

"I  must,  Virginie.  It  may  be  my  last 
chance  of  escape. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands. 
"What  will  become  of  me?" 

"My  poor  darling,  if  I  get  away,  no  matter 
where  I  am,  if  you  will,  you  shall  come  to  me. 
But  it  would  be  better  to  forget  me.  I  shall 
be  a  rebel  and  an  exile.  As  long  as  Bonaparte 
reigns  in  France,  I  shall  be  a  fugitive  from 
justice.  Could  you  bear  such  a  life?  In 
France  we  should  be  hunted ;  in  a  foreign  land 
you  cotild  not  tmderstand  or  talk  to  the 
people.  Our  coimtry  is  oiu*  home.  To  be 
away  from  home  is  to  be  in  torment.  Let  me 
go,  Virginie!  Forget  the  lover  whose  love  has 
been  your  doom ! " 

She  clasped  him  closer.  "I  would  rather 
die  with  you  than  live  without  you!  My 
country?  My  country  is  any  land  where  I 
can  be  with  you!'' 

"  My  love, "  he  said,  "  I  accept  your  sacrifice. 
If  I  live  to  get  away,  you  shall  come  to  me  and 
we  will  be  together  until  we  die. " 

She  had  drawn  him  into  the  neglected  salon. 
The  windows,  closed  by  the  frightened  ser- 
vants, had  not  been  opened,  and  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  scent  of  fading  flowers.  She 
seated  him,  perched  in  her  chosen  place  upon 


Love  Undying  339 

the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  drew  his  head  to 
her  fond  breast. 

"You  will  not  go  until  to-morrow,"  she 
whispered. 

"I  must  go  to-night,  as  I  have  told  you.  I 
am  so  near  the  Champs  Elys6es.  ...  I  can 
go  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  to  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne.  If  I  get  to  the  Bois,  I  am 
safe." 

"Rest  first!"  she  said.     "You  are  so  tired!" 

Tempted  by  her  love,  he  renounced  the 
chances  offered  by  the  darkness,  and  clasped 
in  her  fond  embrace,  lulled  by  the  silence,  he 
fell  asleep. 


He  slept,  and  the  girl,  pillowing  his  head 
upon  her  breast,  kept  watch,  and  let  the  hours 
goby. 

He  awoke  at  midnight,  and  she  led  him  into 
the  little  dining-room  and  gave  him  his  supper. 
When  she  had  served  him,  she  sat  with  elbows 
on  the  table,  tempting  him  to  eat,  gazing 
with  adoring  love  at  the  silver  shimmer  of  his 
hair,  at  the  droop  of  his  fine  mouth,  at  the 
dark  hollows  of  his  mournful  eyes. 

''How  I  have  loved  you!'' she  spoke  as  if  in 
the  presence  of  the  dead.     "One  whole  year 


340  The  Eagle's  Talon 

we  have  been  together!  How  can  I  live 
without  you;  how  can  I  let  you  go!" 

"Perhaps  I  shall  not  go  so  far ! "  he  said  with 
a  sorrowful  smile.  "Even  now  they  may  be 
waiting  for  me. " 

"Your  name  is  Coster!'' 

"Yes.     Do  you  like  my  name? " 

"Tell  me,  Coster,"  she  asked  abruptly,  "is 
it  all  true  what  the  priest  says,  that  Up  There 
we  shall  be  for  ever  with  those  we  love?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  he  answered,  smiling,  "I 
think  so." 

"  Look  into  my  eyes.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
Tell  me  what  will  happen  if  you  do  not  get 
away." 

"I  shall  die." 

"At  once?" 

"Almost  at  once.     My  crime  is  known." 

"Then  if  they  take  you,  I  must  not  hope?" 

"No,  not  even  for  an  hour.  If  they  take 
me,  and  if  you  know  that  they  have  taken  me 
— be  brave!  forget  that  I  crossed  your  path." 

' '  /  will  not  live  without  you. "  She  wept  and 
Saint- Victor  left  his  place,  and  going  around 
the  table,  took  her  in  his  arms. 


I 


Love  Undying  341 

An  hour  before  the  dawn  he  awoke  from  a 
troubled  sleep  and  put  on  the  dress  of  a  dandy, 
grey  small  clothes,  a  white  waistcoat,  and  a 
dark  green  coat.  She  followed  him,  caressing 
his  shotdders  and  his  arms,  enervating  him, 
clinging  to  him,  hindering  his  movements, 
kissing  his  fingers  and  the  hem  of  his  green 
coat.  She  was  silent,  and  her  eyes,  wide  with 
anguish,  shone  through  a  veil  of  tears. 

He  covered  her  face  with  her  long  brown  hair, 
and  parting  the  soft  waves,  kissed  her  piteous 
mouth. 

"Speak  to  me!"  he  besought  her.  "Your 
silence  frightens  me!  Say  one  word  to  me 
before  I  go!" 

"Go/"  she  said.  "The  day  is  breaking. 
You  have  stayed  too  long ! " 

All  too  late  she  had  remembered  the  danger 
of  her  selfish  love.  She  followed  him  into  the 
outer  hall.  They  parted,  and  he  vanished 
in  the  darkness.  She  returned  to  her  apart- 
ment, ran  through  the  rooms  to  the  balcony, 
and  leaned  over  the  railing.  Away  below, 
in  front  of  the  wine  shop  opposite,  a  man, 
intently  watching,  looked  up  to  the  balcony, 
looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  issued  a  brief 
order.  The  door  of  the  wine-shop  opened,  and 
three  men  in  the  uniform  of  the  Prefecture 


'34^  The  Eagle's  Talon 

ran  out.  At  the  same  instant  the  heavy  door 
of  the  apartment  house  closed.  She  saw  him. 
They  seized  him.  Braconneau  put  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

One  of  the  men  whistled  for  a  cab.  Power- 
less, in  the  grip  of  his  enemies,  Saint-Victor 
raised  his  eyes  to  the  balcony.  Sinclair 
caught  the  railing  with  both  hands.  Her 
voice  rang  through  the  silent  street : 

"  /  am  going,  Giolo!  I  shall  he  there,  waiting 
for  you!*'  Her  white  robe  fluttered  in  space 
like  a  great  butterfly.  Her  body  passed 
through  the  air  and  struck  the  groimd. 


The  men  of  the  Prefecture  led  their  prisoner 
to  the  dead ;  and  in  the  grey  light  of  the  dawn- 
ing day,  the  Chouan  took  his  last  farewell  of 
the  girl  whose  soul  he  had  called  to  follow 
him  through  Eternity. 


Sinclair  was  carried  up  the  stairs  and  laid 
in  the  silent  room,  with  the  fading  flowers. 
And  there,  alone  with  the  dead,  Braconneau 
answered  the  questions  of  his  conscience. 


"  The  men  of  the  Prefecture  led  their  prisoner  to  the  dead." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

POLITICAL  JUSTICE 

THE  principals  of  the  conspiracy  were 
behind  bars.  Bonaparte  was  cakn. 
Conscious  of  his  power  to  invest  the  govern- 
mental authority  with  due  importance,  he  was 
inclined  to  look  with  extreme  indulgence  upon 
the  schismatic  ardour  of  the  Republicans.  His 
heart  turned  toward  Moreau,  the  man  who 
had  stood  by  his  side  the  i8th  Bnmiaire; 
but  he  was  firm  in  his  determination  to  punish 
the  Royalists  for  their  attempt  to  force  a  king 
upon  the  yoting  Republic.  Cambac6rds  was 
consvdted.  He  suggested  calling  Moreau  be- 
fore a  court-martial  composed  of  the  chief 
generals.  Bonaparte  repudiated  the  proposi- 
tion and  summoned  Regnier.  To  that  discreet 
adviser  he  could  speak  freely. 

"I  leave  this  matter  in  your  hands,"  he 
said.  "  Make  it  clear  that  the  affair  can  be 
arranged  between  us  two.  Talk  it  over  with 
him.  Let  it  be  known  that  I  have  invited 
him  to  visit  me,  and  bring  him  in  plain  day- 

343 


344  The  Eagle's  Talon 

light,  in  your  own  carriage.  Make  him  under- 
stand that  if  he  will  tell  me  what  he  has  done, 
I  will  forget  the  attempts  for  which  his  detest- 
able associates,  more  than  his  own  impulses, 
are  responsible. " 

Regnier  followed  the  Consul's  instructions 
to  the  letter  but  his  efforts  were  received  with 
proud  resistance.  Moreau  was  exasperated 
by  the  thought  of  appearing  before  Bonaparte 
in  the  character  of  the  conquered.  He  refused 
to  make  any  avowal.  He  declared  that  he 
preferred  to  leave  his  case  to  the  judgment 
of  his  comrades  of  the  court-martial.  When 
Lajolais  revealed  the  fact  of  Moreau's  con- 
nivance with  Pichegru,  and  when  Moreau's 
relations  with  Cadoudal  were  made  known, 
Bonaparte  threw  all  the  blame  of  the  conspir- 
acy on  the  Royalists,  and  forbade  the  public 
prosecutor  to  ask  Moreau  any  question  until 
he  could  act  under  an  order  signed  by  the 
Consul. 

Bonaparte  had  reached  a  time  when  his 
power — tissue  of  the  Revolution — ^made  it 
very  difficult  to  deal  rigorously  with  the 
Republicans.  Poptilar  favour,  confirmed  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldiery,  had  forced 
him  onward  to  the  imperial  throne.  He  had 
refused  the  throne,  but  it  was  evident  that  the 


Political  Justice  345 

time  was  coming  when  he  cotild  no  longer 
evade  his  destiny.  The  eagle  had  soared  so 
high  that  to  rest  lower  than  upon  a  height 
would  be  to  fall. 

The  examination  conducted  by  Real  was 
in  progress.  The  questions  put  to  the  accused 
had  confirmed  the  supposition  that  a  prince  of 
France  had  planned  to  lead  the  armies  of  the 
Royalists  in  an  invasion  of  France,  by  a  move- 
ment to  coincide  with  the  suppression  of  the 
Consul.  The  arrest  of  the  principal  schemers 
ought  to  have  put  an  end  to  fear  of  an  inva- 
sion. But  Bonaparte's  indignant  wrath  had 
been  fanned  to  flame  by  his  household  hot- 
spurs, the  generals,  by  Talleyrand,  and  by 
Fouche.  Fouche  insisted  upon  the  necessity 
of  making  an  example.  "They  must  be 
taught,"  he  urged,  "that  every  man  of  this 
Republic  is  their  equal  and  as  precious  to  the 
coimtry  as  the  best  of  them  was  in  the  best 
days  of  their  power." 

Fouch6  had  made  a  list  of  the  princes  of 
the  blood  and  their  residences.  The  Coimt 
d'Artois  with  his  younger  son,  the  Duke  de 
Berry,  as  well  as  the  Prince  de  Cond6,  were 
in  England.  The  Count  de  Provence  was  in 
Cracow,  with  the  Duke  d'Angoultoe,  the 
elder  son  of  the  Coimt  d'  Artois.     The  elder 


346  The  Eagle's  Talon 

son  of  the  Prince  de  Cond6,  the  Diike 
d'Enghien,  lived  in  Ettenheim,  in  the  Duchy 
of  Baden.  There,  comfortably  settled  as  a 
gentleman  sportsman,  he  passed  his  time  with 
Mme.  de  Rohan,  him  ted,  and  occasionally 
crossed  the  French  line  at  Strasbourg,  and 
attended  the  theatre.  In  his  company  was 
one  of  his  friends,  the  Marquis  de  Thtimery. 
The  Germans,  who  could  not  give  the  name 
the  French  pronunciation,  called  the  Marquis 
''Doumery. "  One  of  the  spies  sent  out 
either  by  the  Prefecture  or  by  the  independent 
initiative  of  Fouch6  studied  the  life  of  the 
Duke  d'Enghien  and  timied  in  a  report 
signalling  the  presence  in  Ettenheim  of 
General  Dimiouriez,  the  noted  hero,  who  was 
to  lead  the  army  of  the  Diike  d'  Enghien, 
march  on  Strasbourg,  and  arrive  in  Paris  one 
hour  after  the  death  of  the  Consul. 

Informed  by  the  Chief  of  Gendarmerie, 
Moncey,  that  Dumouriez,  the  conqueror  of 
Valmy,  was  in  collusion  with  the  Duke  d* 
Enghien,  Bonaparte  retired  to  his  room  and 
locked  the  door.  The  report  made  by  the  spy, 
who  was  responsible  for  the  error  in  identities, 
stated  that  General  Dumouriez  had  visited 
Cadoudal  in  his  lurking  place  in  Paris.  Bona- 
parte had  been  led  to  believe  that  the  Count 


Political  Justice  347 

d'Artois,  aided  by  Pichegru,  was  about  to 
march  on  France.  The  spy's  report  led  to  the 
supposition  that  d'Artois  had  planned  to  land 
at  Biville  and  call  out  the  Chouans  and  the 
Royalist  sympathisers  of  Normandy,  while 
the  army  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien,  led  by 
Dumouriez,  was  in  the  act  of  entering  Alsace. 

Sitting  in  his  room,  alone,  Bonaparte  studied 
the  map  and  considered  all  that  he  had  been 
told.     To  his  mind  all  was  made  clear. 

The  prince,  accompanied  by  two  illustrious 
generals  of  the  French  army,  Pichegru  and 
Dtimouriez,  the  former  pets  of  the  soldier- 
loving  French,  was  to  qmet  the  populace  and 
to  prevent  trouble  in  the  moment  of  excite- 
ment which  could  not  fail  to  follow  Cadoudal's 
supreme  effort,  the  assassination.  The  mind 
of  the  Corsican  evoked  visions.  He  saw  the 
laborious  people  whose  good  had  been  the 
object  of  his  dreams,  bound  by  the  chains  of 
a  cruel  hierarchy,  to  a  condition  of  perpetual 
mediocrity. 

Moved  by  indignation  and  conscious  of  his 
responsibility  and  his  duty  to  the  Republic,  he 
planned  for  action.  To  take  the  Count  d' 
Artois  from  England,  or  to  take  the  Count  de 
Provence  from  Cracow,  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.     But  the  Duke  d'Enghien  was  within  easy 


34^  The  Eagle's  Talon 

reach  of  Paris.  He  was  boldly  impudent;  he 
defied  the  Government  of  France  whenever  his 
fancy  led  him  toward  the  theatre  of  Strasbourg. 
It  would  be  easy  to  arrest  him  in  Strasbourg — 
on  French  ground  ...  or  we  might  arrest 
him  on  the  land  owned  by  the  Duke  of  Baden. 
"It  will  not  be  difficult  to  answer  the  little 
German  princelet,  if  he  complains  of  the 
violation  of  territory,"  urged  one  of  the  hot- 
headed generals. 

Bonaparte  turned  the  matter  in  his  nervous 
mind  until  it  assimied  proportions  of  fatal 
importance.  He  came  to  a  decision  un- 
advised. Republican  France  must  set  her  heel  on 
the  neck  of  the  conspiracy!  Fired  by  the  zeal 
of  legitimate  defence,  Bonaparte  summoned 
Cambac6res,  Lebrun,  and  Fouche,  who,  while 
waiting  for  his  official  appointment,  was  acting 
as  Minister  of  Police.  The  members  of  the 
conference  were  stupefied  when  Bonaparte 
made  known  his  determination.  Cambac6res 
declared  himself  emphatically  adverse  to  what 
he  characterised  as  "  an  ill-advised  and  immoral 
project."  Bonaparte  listened  to  the  opposi- 
tion unmoved.  When  Fouch6  had  added  his 
adverse  opinion  to  the  expostiilations  of  the 
two  generals,  Bonaparte  said : 

"I  know  what  yoiu*  opposition  means !   You 


Political  Justice  349 

are  inspired  by  your  devotion  to  my  personal 
interests.  I  appreciate  your  resistance,  but 
you  cannot  change  my  mind.  I  am  deter- 
mined to  give  them  an  example  that  will 
convince  them  that  they  cannot  foist  a  king 
on  this  Republic!  It  is  of  small  importance 
what  they  try  to  do  to  me,  personally;  but  I 
believe  that  France  needs  me,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  let  them  kill  me  without  making  an 
attempt  to  defend  myself!" 

He  closed  the  conference,  studied  the  map 
of  the  Rhine,  and  sent  Ordener  to  Strasbourg. 
Ordener  set  out  from  Paris  under  orders  to 
abduct  the  Duke  d'Enghien,  and  conduct  him 
to  the  dimgeon  of  Vincennes.  General  Cau- 
laincourt  was  sent  to  the  Duke  of  Baden  with 
a  despatch  which  set  forth  the  necessity  that 
forced  the  French  Government  to  seize  the 
prince  on  foreign  territory. 

The  Consul's  orders  were  executed.  The 
Duke  d'Enghien  was  seized  at  dead  of  night, 
taken  to  Paris,  and  cast  into  the  dungeon  of 
Vincennes.  His  house  in  Baden  was  ran- 
sacked, but  no  trace  of  Dimioimez  could  be 
found.  That  the  error  had  been  caused  by 
mispronunciation  of  the  name  Thumery  was 
clear;  and  the  fact  ought  to  have  halted 
Bonaparte  and  the  men  who  influenced  him  to 


350  The  Eagle's  Talon 

violence.  That  the  invasion  was  impossible 
was  evident ;  but  far  from  revealing  the  truth, 
the  arrest  of  d'Enghien  obscured  the  situation. 
In  a  measure  conscious  of  the  injustice  of  his 
action,  but  equally  conscious  that  he  had  gone 
too  far  to  retrace  his  steps,  Bonaparte  yielded 
to  his  exasperation.  He  sent  for  Murat,  who 
was  in  command  of  the  army  of  Paris.  Murat 
cried  out  in  horror. 

"Have  mercy  on  him!"  he  said.  "I  can- 
not— /  will  not  obey  yotir  orders!" 

"You  shame  your  office!"  Bonaparte  an- 
swered. "  I  am  so  stire  that  my  decision  is 
just,  that  I  shall  sign  the  order  with  my  own 
hand!" 

He  signed  the  order,  and  Murat's  duty 
forced  him  to  obey  it.  Conscious  of  that  fact, 
he  went  out  from  the  presence  of  his  redoubt- 
able brother-in-law,  a  stricken  man. 

His  brave  defence  of  the  hapless  d'Enghien 
was  made  public.  But  the  Bourbons  gave 
him  no  thanks.  Eleven  years  later,  when  he 
was  a  captive  on  the  sands  of  the  Pizzo,  they 
inflicted  upon  him  the  pain  that  he  had  tried 
to  spare  the  Duke  d'Enghien. 

In  the  prison  of  the  Temple,  the  Royalists, 
Pichegru,  and  Moreau  awaited  trial. 

Real  subjected  them   to  harassing  exami- 


Political  Justice  351 

nations,  but  he  learned  nothing  new.  De 
Riviere  and  de  Polignac,  who  had  been  ar- 
rested some  time  after  the  arrest  of  the  Chou- 
ans,  declared  that  they  had  not  schemed  to 
kill  Bonaparte ;  but  their  collusion  with  Cadou- 
dal,  and  their  interviews  with  Moreau,  proved 
that  Moreau  had  contemplated  at  least  a  part 
of  their  scheme,  in  view  of  his  own  action. 

A  prey  to  mute  grief,  for  which  Cadoudal 
could  find  no  reason  because  he  knew  nothing 
of  the  private  life  of  Crescenti,  Saint- Victor 
passed  his  days.  His  companions  made 
efforts  to  arouse  him;  but  his  apathy  was 
invincible.  Cadoudal  sat  beside  his  melan- 
choly lieutenant  and  with  the  tenderness  of 
a  father  recalled  their  past:  the  moorlands 
lying  in  the  long,  French  twilight,  and  the 
deep  rest  taken,  under  the  hedges,  after  long 
runs  before  the  agents  of  the  Blues. 

Day  after  day,  the  rebels  were  simmioned 
before  the  examiner.  One  day  Cadoudal 
retttmed  from  his  examination,  pale  and  agi- 
tated. He  halted  in  the  coiut  of  the  Temple 
where  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  children  of 
Louis  XVI  had  so  often  lingered  to  escape 
the  numbing  atmosphere  of  their  prison.  He 
halted  as  if  seized  by  sudden  agony. 

"Do  you  know  what  they  have  done?"  he 


352  The  Eagle's  Talon 

cried.  "They  seized  the  Duke  d'Enghien  at 
dead  of  night,  brought  him  to  Vincennes, 
tried  him  before  a  drum-head  comLmission, 
led  him  into  the  moat  of  the  dimgeon,  and 
shot  him!" 

"Shot  him?*^  cried  de  Riviere. 

"Shot  a  prince  of  the  blood ! "  said  Polignac. 
"You  must  be  crazy!" 

Coster  awoke  from  his  mournful  stupor. 
"Poor  d'Enghien!"  he  said.  "They  have 
made  him  pay  otu"  debt.  They  have  used  him 
as  a  scapegoat!" 

"Real  made  a  strange  remark! "  said  Cadou- 
dal.  "He  told  me  that  he  expected  to  break 
me  down.  He  has  failed  in  his  expectation 
and  he  knows  it.  This  abominable  crime  has 
exasperated  me.  It  gave  me  courage  to  tell 
him  how  I  despise  him!" 

"This,  gentlemen,"  said  de  Riviere,  "is  a 
presage  of  death. " 

"And  did  you  hope  to  escape  death?  "  asked 
de  Polignac.  "Would  the  monster  who  ex- 
terminated the  pest-stricken  of  Jaffa  show 
mercy  to  his  averred  enemies?" 

"I  am  not  sure  that  he  will  not  show  mercy," 
mused  Pichegru.  "He  is  a  strange  compound 
of  indulgence  and  cruelty.  He  offered  to 
send  me  to  New  Caledonia  with  as  many  men 


Political  Justice  353 

and  as  much  money  as  I  might  need  to  found 
a  successful  colony.  I  could  swear  that 
Moreau  might  go  to  America,  or  anywhere  on 
earth,  and  live  according  to  his  ideas,  if  he 
would  only  say  the  word. " 

"Bonaparte  hates  us!"  said  Polignac. 

*' He  fears  us!"  said  Cadoudal  proudly. 

"If  he  fears  us,  he  is  foolish,"  declared 
Rividre.  "France  belongs  to  him;  the  people 
love  him.  Our  attempt  was  an  act  of  egre- 
gious folly!  To  make  this  wretched  cotmtry 
understand  that  it  is  to  her  interest  to  return 
to  the  king,  we  must  turn  her  into  a  burial- 
ground.  It  is  probable  that  Napoleon  will  do 
that.  France  will  pay  for  his  glory  by  heca- 
tombs, and  his  dictator's  purple  will  be  dyed 
in  blood." 

After  a  time  the  impression  caused  by  the 
death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  faded  and  the 
consciousness  of  immediate  and  personal 
danger  weighed  upon  the  prisoners.  One 
day  after  another  passed  in  wearing  monotony, 
broken  only  by  the  questions  of  the  state 
inquisitor.  Time  brought  no  tidings  from  the 
outer  world.  The  prisoners  had  a  right  to 
walk  in  a  grassy  field  shut  in  by  high  stone 
walls — the  field  of  the  Temple.  They  made 
fruitless  attempts  to  talk  with  their  jailers. 


354  The  Eagle's  Talon 

The  jailers  had  received  severe  orders  to  be 
silent.  Time  passed,  weeks  turned  to  months, 
and  months  weighed  like  years  upon  the 
prisoners.  So  far  Bonaparte  had  found  no 
reason  for  passing  over  the  judgment  of  his 
associates  and  advisers,  in  favour  of  the  men  in 
the  Temple. 

On  the  20th  of  May,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
the  silence  of  the  prison  was  broken  by  the  low 
roar  of  distant  gims.  The  prisoners  were  in  the 
field  talking  and  looking  toward  Paris. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Cadoudal.  "Are 
they  fighting?  Have  the  Jacobins  decided  to 
drag  down  their  idol?" 

"Those  are  not  the  gims  of  combat!"  said 
Polignac.  "The  explosions  are  too  regular. 
They  are  salvos  fired  to  celebrate  an  event  or 
a  victory  .  .  .  the  signing  of  a  treaty  of 
peace,  or  the  birth  of  a  prince!" 

"Can  Bonaparte  have  descended  upon 
England?"  asked  de  Rividre. 

"Can  Josephine  have  given  the  Corsican 
an  heir?" 

"  Holaf  hSr*  Cadoudal  called  to  the  keeper. 
"What  do  those  guns  mean?" 

Taking  off  his  hat,  the  man  answered 
gravely,  "The  Consul  has  just  been  made 
Emperor, " 


Political  Justice  355 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  men  who 
had  planned  for  the  death  of  Bonaparte  were 
crushed  by  his  exaltation.  His  all-powerftil, 
victorious  image  rose  before  their  minds  and 
shut  out  the  horizon.  They  were  impressed 
with  the  consciousness  of  irremediable  defeat, 
and  of  the  ascension  of  their  conqueror  to 
sovereign  destiny.  With  heads  lowered  they 
listened  to  the  cannon  of  the  battery  of  the 
Invalides,  the  great  guns  of  the  artillerymen 
woimded  at  Raucoux  and  at  Fontenoy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  emperor's  OFFER 

IN  the  evening  when  Cadoudal  was  in  his 
cell  reading  a  book  lent  by  the  jailer,  his 
keeper  entered  and  announced  a  visitor. 
Cadoudal  closed  his  book  and  arose  from  his 
seat  upon  his  bed.  Footsteps  sounded  in  the 
corridor,  and  the  director  of  the  prison  opened 
the  door  of  the  room  and  introduced  two 
visitors,  one  a  small  man,  coiffed  to  the  tips 
of  his  ears  with  a  round  hat,  the  other  an 
officer  of  cavalry  in  uniform.  The  small  man 
waved  his  hand.  The  officer  retired  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room.  Cadoudal  stared  in 
astonishment  at  the  man  who  was  able  to 
force  an  entrance  to  his  impenetrable  prison. 
He  was  about  to  speak  when  his  visitor 
uncovered  his  head  and  revealed  the  pale  face 
of  the  Emperor.  Bonaparte  looked  calmly  in 
the  stem  eyes  of  the  chief,  drew  a  little  bench 
from  under  the  table,  seated  himself,  and 
motioned  the  prisoner  to  a  seat.     Cadoudal 

sat  down  on  his  bed. 

356 


The  Emperor's  Offer  357 

"General  de  Cadoudal, "  Bonaparte  said, 
"four  years  ago  you  came  to  the  Tuileries  to 
call  upon  me.  I  have  come  to  return  yoiir 
visit.  I  gave  you  a  warning  on  that  occasion, 
but  you  continued  your  wild  attempts,  and  to- 
day you  are  here,  my  prisoner." 

"You  did  not  displace  yourself  for  the 
purpose  of  coming  here  to  triimiph  over  me, " 
Cadoudal  said  calmly. 

"No.  I  am  above  such  puerility.  I  have 
come  here  to  offer  you  a  last  proof  of  my  in- 
terest in  you.  For  the  second  time  I  give  you 
words  of  kindness  in  return  for  yoiu*  menaces 
of  death." 

The  Chouan  returned  the  declaration  with 
a  mocking  smile.  "Does  your  imperial  dig- 
nity incite  you  to  parody  the  clemency  of 
Augustus?  "  he  asked.  "  Or  do  you  remember 
the  lessons  acted  out  for  your  benefit  by 
Talma?  Have  you  come  here  to  recite  a  pas- 
sage from  Cinna  ?  " 

Bonaparte  ignored  the  sarcasm.  "If  you 
impute  to  me  the  low  puerilities  of  inferior 
minds,  you  do  not  imderstand  me, "  he  said. 
"  I  am  as  far  above  htiman  malice  as  the  wishes 
of  the  people  have  raised  my  temporal  power. 
To-day  my  thoughts  are  not  what  they  were 
yesterday;  the  acts  that  were  natural  in  the 


358  The  Eagle's  Talon 

simple  chief  elect  of  a  free  people,  find  no 
place  in  the  mind  of  the  master  of  an  empire 
whose  forttmes  he  holds  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand." 

"Was  it  as  the  simple  chief  elect  of  a  free 
people,  or  as  the  master  of  an  empire,  that 
you  killed  the  Diike  d'Enghien?"  sneered  the 
Chouan. 

Bonaparte  paled,  but  he  answered  firmly. 
"The  death  of  the  Diike  d'Enghien  explains 
my  presence  in  your  prison.  If  the  Prince  de 
Bourbon  had  not  paid  the  ransom  of  all  your 
attempts  to  assassinate  me,  I  should  not  have 
a  right  to  offer  you  your  life. " 

"As  I  have  not  been  legally  condemned,  it 
would  hardly  be  in  keeping  with  facts  for  you 
to  offer  to  pardon  me! "  Cadoudal  said. 

"It  is  my  wish  to  prevent  your  condemna- 
tion; to  open  the  doors  of  your  prison  and 
set  you  free,  and  at  liberty  to  go  where  you 
will." 

"You  have  chosen  an  adroit  means  of  dis- 
arming me;  I  should  find  it  hard  to  fight  the 
man  who  set  me  free!" 

' '  My  means  are  better  than  adroit. "  Bona- 
parte answered.  "If  they  succeed,  I  shall 
have  been  useful  to  a  land  in  intense  need  of 
peace." 


The  Emperor's  Offer  359 

Cadoudal  seemed  inclined  to  consider  the 
words  of  his  conqueror.     He  reflected. 

"Are  you  making  the  offer  to  me  alone?" 
he  asked. 

"  Not  to  you  alone.  No.  I  offer  liberty  to 
you  and  to  all  of  your  companions  save  one.  '* 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  Picot,  the  man  who  killed  a  woman. " 

"  The  woman  was  a  spy.  She  had  betrayed 
us  and  delivered  us  to  our  enemies  ten  times. 
Picot  pimished  her  because  I  gave  him  the 
order  to  punish  her.  He  is  a  soldier  of  my 
army.  When  it  comes  to  matters  of  that 
kind,  no  one  knows  better  than  you  know  that 
the  first  duty  of  the  soldier  is  obedience.  If  to 
kill  her  was  to  commit  crime,  I  am  the  one  to 
be  punished. " 

"The  woman  was  in  my  service."  Bona- 
parte spoke  as  if  reasoning  with  himself.  ' '  She 
saved  my  life. " 

"By  avowing  that,"  Cadoudal  retorted, 
"you  justify  my  order,  and  the  action  of  the 
man  who  obeyed  my  order.  In  time  of  war, 
when  you  caught  a  spy,  you  did  not  try  him, 
you  killed  him.  Picot  is  no  more  to  be  blamed 
than  the  squad  that  obeys  an  order  and  fires  a 
volley  into  the  body  of  the  condemned!" 

"So  be  it!"     Bonaparte  said  quietly.     "I 


36o  The  Eagle's  Talon 

recognise  the  justice  of  your  argument.  Picot 
shall  go  free.  And  now,  General  de  Cadoudal, 
let  me  urge  you  to  listen  to  me.  I  offer  you, 
with  your  liberty,  the  place  of  a  leader  in  the 
army  of  the  Empire.  Purify  your  life  from 
civil  war  by  fighting  for  France  against  a 
foreign  nation.  We  are  about  to  fight  Austria. 
Come  with  us!  Lead  one  of  my  regiments  to 
battle !  You  will  return  to  France  a  victorious 
general  and  your  glory  will  be  the  glory  of  the 
nation.  You  shall  be  with  your  friends.  I 
will  see  to  it  that  they  accompany  you,  and 
that  their  courage  is  known  at  its  real  worth. 
Look  at  duty  in  the  light  of  reason  and  patriot- 
ism. You  love  France;  love  it  as  my  soldiers 
love  it.  Your  return  to  the  right  path  shall  be 
glorious.  I  will  bestow  a  recompense  beyond 
the  gift  of  any  king. " 

Cadoudal  rose  to  his  feet.  ' '  Your  last  words 
have  recalled  me  to  my  duty,"  he  said.  "I 
refuse  your  offer.  I  give,  not  sell,  my  devotion. 
I  refuse  what  you  are  offering  me,  because  I 
owe  all  that  I  can  give  to  my  King.  He  needs 
me,  I  must  stand  firm,  I  must  be  true  to  him, 
because  his  hope  is  past  and  gone,  because 
he  has  no  crown,  no  throne,  no  power,  no 
honour!" 

Bonaparte  fixed  his  imperious  eyes  on  the 


The  Emperor's  Offer  361 

Chouan.  "I  can  say  no  more,  "  he  said. 
"You  will  not  hear  me.  But  I  cannot  believe 
that  you  will  be  content  to  answer  for  your 
companions,  when  the  question  is  one  of 
life  and  death.  I  will  wait  for  your  answer 
until  you  have  consulted  them.  I  will  visit 
the  apartments  occupied  by  King  Louis 
and  Marie  Antoinette.  It  will  not  hurt 
me  to  reflect  upon  their  fate.  When  a  man 
ascends  the  throne,  no  one  knows  in  what 
manner  he  will  descend  from  it.  I  shall  wait 
within  these  walls  half  an  hour.  On  my  way 
to  the  street  I  shall  pass  this  court.  If  even 
one  of  you  has  decided  to  accept  my  proposi- 
tion, cry,  when  you  hear  me  passing,  'Long 
live  Liberty r  If  all  have  refused  my  offer,  cry, 
'  Long  live  the  King!'     I  shall  understand. " 

Cadoudal  inclined  his  head. 

"Come,  Rapp!"  Bonaparte  called  to  his 
aide-de-camp,  "I  am  ready."  On  the  thres- 
hold of  the  door  he  tiuned  and  said  in  the 
peculiarly  thrilling,  familiar  voice,  known 
only  by  his  friends:  " May  we  meet  again!" 

The  guard  had  waited  in  the  corridor.  By 
the  Emperor's  order  he  conducted  Cadoudal 
to  the  large  room  used  in  the  ancient  days  as 
the  templars'  refectory;  a  room  looking,  like 
Cadoudal's  cell,   upon  the  narrow,   slabbed 


362  The  Eagle's  Talon 

path  leading  to  the  prison  gates.  Immediately 
after  Cadoudal's  entrance,  the  Royalists  were 
brought  in.  When  the  door  had  closed  upon 
the  guard,  and  when  Cadoudal  was  alone 
with  his  friends,  he  looked  aroimd  him  as  if  to 
number  his  companions.  "I  wish  to  consult 
you,"  he  said,  "concerning  a  matter  of  grave 
importance.  The  man  whom  we  know  as 
Bonaparte  has  just  visited  me  in  my  cell." 

"What  was  his  object?"  asked  de  Polignac. 

"He  came  to  offer  us  liberty. " 

"What  were  his  conditions?  " 

"His  only  conditions  were  that  I  should 
accept  his  offer. " 

"To  men  of  honour  that  would  mean 
cessation  of  hostilities,"  said  de  Rividre. 

"I  never  fancied  fighting  as  one  of  Cond6's 
soldiers.  I  defended  my  Brittany  against  the 
men  who  cast  down  the  Cross,  drove  out 
the  priests,  and  guillotined  the  defenders  of  the 
throne.  I  tried  in  every  way,  and  with  all 
my  might,  to  restore  the  throne  to  my  master. 
Had  I  been  forced,  during  my  struggles  as 
a  soldier  of  the  King,  to  wear  the  white  coat 
of  an  Austrian,  and  to  fire  on  the  French,  I 
should  have  loathed  my  duty.  But  that 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case  in  question. 
I  refused  a  commission  in  the  army  of  the 


The  Emperor's  Offer  363 

Empire.  The  offer  of  unconditional,  absolute 
liberty  is  made  to  you,  my  comrades  and  my 
friends.  If  you  are  inclined  to  follow  the 
life  of  the  soldier,  they  will  give  you  back 
your  arms.  If  you  wish  to  begin  the  life  of  a 
civilian,  they  will  give  you  means  to  buy 
implements  of  labotu*.  Your  past  will  be 
forgotten.  You  are  young;  a  broad  future 
lies  before  you." 

The  discussion  had  aroused  Saint- Victor 
from  his  melancholy  apathy.  He  arose  and 
stood  before  Cadoudal. 

"General,"  he  said,  "you  have  forgotten 
one  thing:  you  have  not  told  us  what  you  are 
going  to  do." 

Cadoudal's  answer  was  an  explosion  of 
determined  words:  "7  refused  to  listen!  The 
blood  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  lies  between 
that  man  and  me!" 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  group.  Pale, 
fully  conscious  of  the  meaning  of  their  decision, 
but  determined,  they  cried  with  frenzy:  ''By 
the  blood  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien!  We  will 
die!'' 

"I  shall  not  insult  your  decision  by  a  doubt 
as  to  my  right  to  accept  it  as  final, "  Cadoudal 
said.  "You  are  not  men  who  repent  of  a 
decision.     To  my  mind  it  is  well  for  us  that 


364  The  Eagle's  Talon 

we  are  permitted  to  die  for  our  holy  cause. 
God,  the  Church,  the  Holy  Sacraments,  have 
been  the  objects  of  our  defence.  Our  King 
represents  our  religion  and  our  hope.  We 
have  failed!  The  throne  of  the  new  Caesar 
must  be  sprinkled  with  our  blood.  He  knows 
it;  the  step  taken  by  him  to-night  is  more 
adroit  than  generous.  It  is  not  us  but  his 
c6nscience  that  he  seeks  to  spare. " 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  and 
said  to  Picot:  "Picot,  my  boy,  the  air  of  this 
room  smothers  me!     Open  the  window!" 

The  measured  tread  of  light  feet  tuned  to  a 
nervous  march  sounded  on  the  flags  of  the 
path  below  the  windows.  Cadoudal  addressed 
his  companions:  "We  have  come  to  an 
irrevocable  decision.  We  know  the  end 
awaiting  us,  and  we  are  ready!  Now,  as  in 
the  days  when  we  were  free,  let  us  cry  together 
to  affirm  our  resolution:  ^ In  the  name  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  for  the  King!''* 

The  men  near  the  door  hesitated.  The 
sound  of  advancing  feet  had  caught  their 
ears.  The  footsteps  were  coming  near.  The 
sweet  night  air  entered  from  the  field  and 
lifted  the  light  waves  of  Coster's  hair,  the 
carefully  dressed  locks  of  de  Rividre  and  de 
Polignac,    and    Cadoudal's   long   grey   curls. 


The  Emperor's  Offer  365 

Cadoudal  raised  his  hand.     Loud,  solemn,  and 
sonorous,  like  a  full  chord,  the  cry  went  forth: 
"Long  live  the  King!'' 
It  fell  like  a  knell  on  the  ear  of  the  conqueror. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LONG  LIVE  THE  KING! 

THE  trial  closed  on  the  eighth  day  of  June. 
From  the  moment  of  incarceration  the  at- 
titude of  the  prisoners  had  been  touching 
in  its  simplicity  and  energy.  The  judges  de- 
liberated behind  the  locked  doors  of  the 
cotirt-room.  Around  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
the  people  surged,  held  in  check  by  the  cor- 
don of  the  army  of  Paris.  The  corridors  o^ 
the  court-house  swarmed  with  soldiers,  gen- 
darmes, and  policemen.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  Terror  weighed  upon  the  city.  Public 
ciuiosity  and  indignation  had  known  nothing 
of  the  kind  since  the  trial  and  execution  of 
King  Louis  and  Marie  Antoinette.  The  ele- 
gant women  of  the  epoch,  officials,  magis- 
trates, and  men  of  high  political  position  were 
grouped  in  the  auditorium  of  the  court,  as 
for  a  gala  spectacle. 

Cadoudal  was  calm  and  boldly  courageous. 
When  the  regicide  of  the  convention  of  the 
Revolution,  Theuriot,  asked  him  a  question, 

3^ 


Long  Live  the  King !  367 

he  addressed  him  in  reply  as  King-killer,  and 
with  a  grimace  of  disgust  called  for  water  to 
rinse  his  mouth  of  the  nauseating  mention  of 
his  name. 

On  the  tenth  day  of  June,  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  President  of  the  Chamber 
sentenced  the  prisoners.  Cadoudal,  Picot, 
Coster  de  Saint-Victor,  Burban,  disfigured  and 
staggering  from  weakness,  and  ten  others,  were 
sentenced  to  die.  De  Rividre  and  de  Polignac 
were  sentenced  to  imprisonment.  Moreau 
though  innocent,  was  likewise  sentenced  to 
imprisonment.  Pichegru,  despairing,  bowed 
down  by  the  weight  of  his  remorse,  had  killed 
himself  in  his  cell. 

The  condemned  were  transferred  to  Bic^tre, 
where,  in  absolute  calm,  they  waited  for  the 
simimons  to  execution;  talking  in  hushed 
voices  of  the  past,  praying  to  the  saints,  and 
singing  the  mournful  songs  of  the  fishers' 
widows,  and  the  old  hymns  heard  in  their 
early  boyhood  days  in  the  parish  churches  of 
the  tragic  sea-lands  of  Brittany.  Going  and 
coming  in  the  street  the  people  crossed  them- 
selves as  the  praise  of  God,  chanted  in  the 
grave  voices  of  the  men  awaiting  death,  rose 
from  the  dark  walls  of  the  prison. 

Deeply   affected   by   the   energy   and   the 


368  The  Eagle's  Talon 

exalted  devotion  of  the  men  doomed  by  his 
will  to  die,  Bonaparte  made  desperate  attempts 
to  save  them.  At  last,  when  the  time  of  their 
death  was  near,  he  said  to  Duroc:  "/  will  do 
anything  to  save  them!  I  cannot  let  them  die!'' 
When  the  director  of  the  prison  gave  Cadoudal 
the  petition  which,  if  signed  by  one,  was  to 
assure  the  release  of  all,  Cadoudal  repulsed 
him  with  a  rough  exclamation  of  disdain: 
The  creature  is  bent  on  working  our  dishonour! '  * 
His  sole  thought  was  to  die  according  to  his 
faith. 

Two  of  the  men  of  Paris,  Braconneau  and 
Lerebourg,  had  followed  the  last  phases  of  the 
drama  of  the  Chouannerie  with  passionate 
interest.  Braconneau,  "the  right  arm  of  the 
Ministry  of  Police,"  had  attained  the  place 
best  fitted  to  his  ability.  During  the  trial 
the  two  men  had  given  their  testimony,  and 
now,  knowing  that  the  Chouans  were  locked 
in  their  cells  at  Bic^tre,  and  that  they  would  be 
there  until  called  out  for  execution,  Bracon- 
neau became  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  pity  and 
remorse.  His  duel  to  the  death  with  the 
Royalist  faction  had  been  fought  to  the  end. 
He  was  to  live  in  honour,  and  Cadoudal  and 
"the  handsome  boy,"  with  all  the  band  of 


Long  Live  the  King  I  369 

devoted  servants  of  the  Royalist  and  Catholic 
army,  were  going  to  the  unknown  Hereafter, 
to  join  Saint-R6geant.  His  mind  was  busy 
with  Saint-Victor,  who  had  raced  with  him  on 
the  road  to  death.  One  evening  he,  Bra- 
conneau  sat  at  a  table  in  the  caf6  de  Rotonde, 
with  Lerebourg.  In  the  galleries  looking 
down  upon  the  well-known  officer  of  the 
Ministry  of  Police,  the  people  circulated,  gay 
with  life.  Braconneau's  face  was  dark  from 
painful  emotion. 

'^They  will  die  to-morrow/^*  he  said  after 
gloomy  silence.  "I  dread  the  thought!  The 
service  is  to  be  imusually  large  and  imposing; 
the  picked  men  of  the  garrison  of  Paris.  I 
shall  have  to  be  there.  My  office  obliges  me. 
You  have  stood  by  me  in  many  a  trial, 
Lerebourg;  be  with  me  to-morrow." 

"I  cannot  do  it!"  Lerebourg  answered.  I 
have  borne  all  that  I  can  bear.  I  did  all  that 
I  could  do  to  blot  out  the  wrong  done  by 
Saint-R6geant.  The  death  of  my  poor  Emilie 
has  been  avenged.  I  will  not  add  the  sight  of 
the  scaffold,  and  those  unfortimate  victims  of 
the  King,  to  the  memories  that  haimt  my 
thoughts!" 

"  You  were  not  of  that  opinion  when  we  were 
in   Brittany,   when   you   carried   out   Mont- 


370  The  Eagle's  Talon 

moran's  orders.  Pardieul  If  you  had  been 
told  to  kill  those  'victims,'  you  would  not 
have  hesitated.  Now  you  are  not  willing  to 
look  on  while  some  one  else  kills  them!" 

"Jesting  aside,  Braconneau, "  was  the 
serious  answer,  "I  did  wrong  and  I  am  sorry 
for  it!  A  man  does  in  the  heat  of  war,  what 
he  could  not  do  in  cold  blood. " 

"Let  me  ease  your  mind  of  its  remorse!" 
urged  Braconneau.  "Let  me  tell  you  some- 
thing!" 

"Do  not  tell  me  anjrthing!"  Lerebourg 
said.  "  Let  me  forget  if  it  be  possible.  I  know 
yoiir  mind.  Your  office  demands  familiarity 
with  suffering.  In  yoiu:  heart  you  feel  as  I 
feel.  As  for  me,  I  am  done  with  police  duty! 
The  death  of  poor  little  Sinclair  .  .  .  her 
love  for  that  pretty  boy  .  .  .  her  promise  to 
be  there,  waiting  for  him — all  that  gave  me 
the  death-blow.  I  have  no  fiuther  interest  in 
this  world.  It  seemed  to  me  that  in  Sinclair 
I  saw  my  Emilie.  When  I  think  of  the  results 
of  my  work  in  the  Consul's  service,  my  heart 
quails!  Seen  by  the  light  of  this  crowning 
sacrifice,  the  action  of  those  men  is  grand  and 
noble.  They  were  willing  to  die  in  the  defence 
of  their  King.  And  who  can  be  sure  that  they 
were  wrong?     I  saw  Carrier  and  his   boats 


Long  Live  the  King!  371 

at  Nantes;  I  know  about  his  'republican 
marriages.'  He  was  a  monster!  And  what 
happened  at  Quiberon?  Despite  the  capitula- 
tion signed  by  Hoche,  the  prisoners  were 
massacred.  That  of  itself  was  enough  to 
provoke  terrible  reprisals!  The  crimes  and 
ferocities  committed  by  the  opposing  parties 
are  evenly  balanced!" 

"Eh,  well!"  said  Braconneau.  "What  can 
you  do?  All  that  is  part  of  the  philosophy 
of  civil  war!  Let  us  sleep  on  it!  Gargorif 
two  havaroises!  * ' 


The  time  had  come;  the  morning  of  the 
execution.  Four  by  four  the  condemned  were 
taken  from  the  Conciergerie  to  the  Place  de 
Gr6ve.  On  the  way  to  the  scaffold,  the  cur6  of 
Saint-Sulpice,  the  Abb6  de  Keravenan,  re- 
peated the  salutation  of  the  Angel,  Hail 
Mary!  and  Cadoudal  uttered  the  response. 
The  solemn  words  of  the  invocation  rose  and 
fell  in  waves  of  soimd  as  the  carts  rolled 
slowly  over  the  rough  stones  of  the  pavement. 
Saint-Victor,  his  fair  head  bare,  his  deep, 
imseeing  eyes  fixed  on  the  growling  people, 
followed  the  chief:  ''Hail  Mary,  full  of  Grace, 
the  Lord  is  with  thee!  ..." 


372  The  Eagle's  Talon 

^^  Pray  for  us  sinners  now — "  They  had 
reached  the  scaffold. 

"Finish,  my  son!"  mtirmured  the  priest: 
" Now  and  at  the  hour  of  our  death!'' 

"Amen/' 

Loud,  eager,  and  unfaltering,  the  Chouans' 
rallying  cry  burst  from  the  lips  an  instant 
later  closed  for  ever: 

''Long  live  the  King!" 


THE  END 


By  the  Author  of  **Zl)C  IRoent^'* 

The  Broken   Halo 

By  Florence  L.  Barclay 

Frontispiece  in  Color.    $JJ5  net.    By  mail,  $1.50 

A  novel  full  of  those  fine  qualities  of 
the  soul,  that  sustained  idealism,  and 
transforming  beauty  of  thought  that  make 
Mrs.  Barclay*s  characters  the  most  lov- 
able in  present  date  fiction  and  that  have 
endeared  her  to  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  readers.  The  Broken  Halo  is  a  love 
story  in  which  the  sweetness  and  warmth 
of  affection  are  paralleled  out  by  its 
readiness  to  do  all  in  its  power  on  behalf 
of  the  person  who  has  awakened  it. 

Ooer  One  Million  Copies  of  Mrs. 
Barclay's  Movels  Sold 

(L  P.  Putnams  Son's 

New  York  London 


The  Melrose  Prize  Novel 
Awarded  Prize  of  $I250 

The  Lure  of  the  Little 
Drum 

By  Margaret  Peterson 

IT.     With  Portrait  of  Author.    SUSnet 
By  mall  $150 

The  adjudicators  of  the  competition  were 

Joseph  Conrad,  W.  J.  Locke,  and 

Mary  Chohnondeley 

This  strongly  conceived  dramatic  and 
exciting  story  of  Anglo-Indian  life  by  a 
new  writer  who  is  backed  by  such  high 
literary  authorities  demands  the  attention 
of  every  reader. 

Mr,  Joseph  Conrad  f  "  The  whole  work 
is  artistically  sincere.  .  .  .  The  author 
understands  her  people  with  a  first-hand 
knowledge." 

Mr,  W,  J,  Locket  " A  well-written 
nervous  story  by  one  who  knows  India 
thoroughly.  The  drama  of  the  flight  is 
admirably  conceived." 

New  York    G.  P.  Putnam'S  Sons        London 


New  Book  by  Myrtle  Reed 

Author  of 

** LaoenJer  and  Old  Lace,"  "  The  Spinster  Book," 

"  The  Master's  Violin,"  etc 

Threads  of  Grey 
and  Gold 

/2**.      With    Colored    Frontispiece,      $150    net 

Red  Leather,  $2.00  net     Antique  Calf,  $2 JO 

net     {Postage,  15  cts.) 

As  the  title  suggests,  this  is  a  literaiy  tapestry 
in  which  have  been  harmoniously  blended  the 
glittering  vibrations  of  joy  that  threadlike  run 
through  our  lives  with  the  crepuscular  greys  that 
act  as  a  contrast.  A  pattern  of  singular  beauty 
has  resulted,  into  the  texture  of  which  have  been 
absorbed  the  emotions,  imptilses,  thoughts,  and 
reflections  that  make  up  life's  total.  The  volume 
is  rich  with  the  personality  of  Myrtle  Reed.  It 
is  characterized  by  the  combination  of  humor 
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the  gifted  author  and  that  has  endeared  her  to 
a  world-wide  circle  comprising  probably  not  less 
than  two  million  sympatiietic  admirers. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  Londcm 


By  the  Author  of 

Poppy,"  "The  Claw" 


WANDERFOOT 


By  CYNTHIA  STOCKLEY 

12°.       With  Portrait  of  Author.      $1.35  net 
By  mail,  $1.50 

Like  Poppyf  and  The  Claw,  the  present  story  is 
written  in  a  sweeping,  dramatic,  intensive,  and 
colorable  style  commensurate  with  the  big  issues 
of  life  that  the  characters  confront. 

"  Wanderfoot"  is  the  pen-name  of  the  heroine, 
a  woman  journalist  who  has  been  borne  along 
swiftly  on  the  wings  of  dreams,  but  like  all  the 
self-dependent  has  experienced,  too,  the  hard 
touch  of  the  actual,  a  woman  without  root  or 
anchor,  a  wanderer  over  the  face  of  the  world, 
who,  nevertheless,  finds  the  harbor  of  love  and, 
though  driven  out  from  that  harbor, — ^her  dream 
shipwrecked  and  shattered, — is  again  united, 
after  a  succession  of  strange  vicissitudes  and 
character-testing  experiences,  with  a  man  to 
whom  her  destiny  is  linked. 

New  York    G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons    London 


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